A twisted picture

She walks down to breakfast
And she seems happy
But nobody knows
That her life is crappy

Last night, a razor
A x on her wrist
A kind of a picture
One with a twist

They though she was perfect
In every little way
You don't understand me
Is what she really wants to say

This meal was different
Her mother ran to the car
She realized, no sweater
I'm showing my scars

How could she do this?
I thought she was good
She knew their was one thing to do
Something she knew she should

She ran up the stairs
Her father behind her
She rose her knife to her heart
The rest, just a blur

I guess he tried to save her
But really, it was to late
Now shes being carried away
In a big brown wooden crate