For my 50th update, I'll put up an original poem thing, even though I don't write that great of poetry.

Tears streaming down her face,

She always felt out of place.

Another night without sleep,

Didn't utter a single peep.

A blade of silver by her side,

Now has been red-dyed.

Wishing she was dead for so long,

Not being able to stay strong.

Blood came pouring out,

No one there to hear her shout.

Tired of being without friends,

She knew this was the end.

This time she cut deep into her vain,

Not even feeling any pain.

She then took a gun,

And was finally done.

As she fell to the floor,

She simply whispered,

"I can't do this anymore."