I imagine my dog running happily in the background,

Chasing birds and eating a dusty bone,

But when I look out of the window,

All I see is a sad, mad, depressed creature,

Sobbing in a corner.

Someone tied him,

With a rope.

It reminds me of her, with her long sad story,,

She was tied with their rope of words,

Strangled. Killed.

I'll never forget her last question in her letter,

"Why are you doing this to me?"

They killed her.

With an invisible rope.

Behind her scars were teases and depression,

Behind her scars were laughter and isolation,

"Why are you doing this to me?"

She suffered.

She tried to get rid of the rope. She tried.

They were tied tightly,

Without a say.