If it were easy, she would have done it sooner 
  There were too many consequences and
  considerations 
If it were easy, the choice could have been all hers 
  There were too many morbid black clouds, with no nearing blue            skies 

If it were easy, the ink would not be smeared by salt tears 
  There were too many words holding pathetic, and meaningless    consolations  
If it were easy, the razors could have been sufficient  
  There were too many bloody memories; masked by long lines of    healed over scars 

If it were easy, “I Love You” would have been meaningful enough 
  There were too many insincere offerings for help, that Tumblr’s   tips were trust-worthier  
If it were not so easy, she would still be here with all of us 
  There were too many warning signs, too many accessible escape    routes, too much pain