She picks up the phone and dial's frantically
the operator picks up, "hi, what's your emergency?"
she's hitting herself on the head, forcing the words to come together
scratching and shaking despite the stickily humid weather
taking a deep breath and relieving it just as quickly
she glimpses herself in the mirror, so pale and sickly
the operator speaks calmly, "ma'am, are you there?"
she ignores her words and instead pulls on her hair
another deep breath and she finally comes out with it
"i'm gonna end it tonight, i'm so sick of this shit"
"you're sick of what, miss? what are you going to end?"
she screams loudly "stop pretending to be my fucking friend!"
an awkward silence and the operator asks for her name
"what do you need to know for? i'll pass if it's all the same"
the operator okays it and rattles off some more questions
none of which are answered so she follows up with suggestions
"maybe I can help you, why dont you tell me what's wrong?"
she replies with "why not? but I haven't got too long"
the operator says "why is that, have you some place to be?"
she sits quietly and then "with the one who made me"
"what are you talking about, ma'am, what have you done?"
in a voice free of feeling she says "the devil has won"
she's doped up on pills and God knows what else
heavy with the guilt of what she's done to herself
she walks out through her door and to the balcony ahead
climbs upon the base, looking down, arms spread
"hey, thanks for listening but i've got to go now"
the operator begins to fidget, wiping sweat from her brow
she stands unsteadily, moving closer to the edge
the operator begins shouting, trying to move her from the ledge
"i have no one left" she says as she feels the wind whip through her hair
as she plunges to her death the operator mumbles the words "i care"..
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