Watching crimson run
Unable to control the urges
I want to break...
Maybe I have
Into a million peices
Like shattered glass
I want to know
Why I am the way
I am
Why I'm so unlucky
That I have this
Pain all stored deap
Inside
It hurts more than
One can imagine
but
Why would one care
About the quiet girl
Shes so perfect
they all think
...but...
-I'm not-
I'm broken like
a glass vase shattered
Or the last shattered mirror
Covered in blood
All to stop the suffering
To stop the bleeding on the inside
but destroy the skin on the ouside
Hurting so bad I just...
Don't understand
Why me? What did I do..
Why must I suffer like this...
God must really hate me
If there really is one that is
I must have done something
Something horrid... immoral
but how can that be...
what did I do
only at age
Four
