Im dying. I dont know
That I am still here. The
Only way to be sure?
Another empty smile.
She goes to the bathroom.
Pulls off her sweatshirt,
She needs to feel.
Needs a release.
She pulls out her fathers knife.
She needs to see and feel something
Real. She slides the knife along her
Skin and she pretends like nothing is wrong.
She exhales deeply seeing
Her own blood raise to the
Surface and spill out racing one
Another. She feels free as
Her blood drips down her arm.
She feels accomplished by the
Work she has done and thats fine. She knows shes alive as she feels
The pain her own hands have caused.
She goes again and again and
At this point it feels like there is no stopping her. She cant force herself
To stop shes got it down to a rythem.
The pain is like a melody
The blood drops are her notes
She feels crazy and misunderstood
Alone and cold she shakes on the floor. By the time shes finnished theres no where left to mark.
Her arms covered and her legs
As well shes embarassed and feels
Hideous. She feels stupid because shed done it for all the wrong reasons.
She puts her feelings aside and
Wipes away her tears honestly they'll do no good now. They wont help her anyway they never would have helped her in the first place.
She cleans up the blood,
Pulls her pants back on and
Throws on her sweatshirt. Shes
Done all the living she can for a while. Soon they will be scars.