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I sit in my room
With the music turned up full
And I cry and write
Until my head is empty
And my arm is numb.
When I am finished…
My notebook is stained with tears…
My eyes puffy…
My nose running…
And my cheeks marked with mascara.
I seem to feel just a little bit better
Yet my emotional pain still haunts me
And I can still feel that empty space in my heart…
The one that is supposed to be filled with the love of others.
I begin to weep again
I reach towards my desk
But this time I am not looking for my notebook.
It is the razor that I am reaching for.
I move my hand throughout the desk drawer
And feel the cold metal as it meets with my warm fingertips.
I slowly take it out and lift my head.
I bring the blade closer and slice.
The blood pours like Niagara falls out of my wrist.
I smother the cut with my pillow
And cry until I can cry no more.
Is this really what the life of a 15 year old should be?

*please comment. i really dont care if you vote or not, i just want to know what you think of it because to me this is one of the best poems i have written. you make think otherwise and thats why i would like you to comment. thanx*