In need of title

The thing is 
She drinks like her father 
And no one can tell 
That she hasn’t laughed in months 
She won’t make eye contact 
When she tells you 
She lost herself last year 
Tell her it gets better 
She’ll smile 
Get real high 
And sigh the smoke out 
Into your face 
And for a moment 
She’ll look real 
Instead of a porcelain doll 
Cracked 
Leant up against the wall 
She’s not afraid to die anymore 
I don’t think she ever was

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/72ftvk/i_havent_left_yet/?st=J82KGABN&sh=d172b462

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/71owja/ocd/?st=J82LC20J&sh=6f32397f