A doll, stabbed in needles, reflection glinting from shining points,
Pieces of this shattered mirror-depiction of self-loathing,
Embedded, crimson glass in maimed and mangled wrists and throat.
A girl, worthless to herself, nothing to anybody else.
Destroyed by the fourfold who couldn't see damage,
Scars didn't act as the desired boundaries, they only added 'glamour',
Bleeding glamour that killed me from the inside out.
A dog-toy, something that those four could tear apart,
Blood-stained and broken, "free-spirited", not enough "spirit" left to care,
Heart reduced to smashed ruins; wrists eroded to split-veins,
Kept going by a need to survive; not yet safe from herself; running on empty,
As good as dead,