Dysfunctional

She watched me from away. I was on the ground, crying as I held the syringe to my veins.

The tears wouldn't stop coming, as I injected myself with the deadly drug.

"Here," she whispered, and sat beside me on the sidewalk. She leant against the wall, and looked at me, saddened.

"Give it to me..."

"I don't want you to be this way." I spoke back, my voice choked.

"I want to feel..." she told me, a sad smile and a tear rolling down her cheek, "I want to feel what you feel."

"Till death?" I asked.

"Till death..."