Cuts here
Cuts there
Cuts on my arms
and everywhere.
Bleeding thoughts
and Tear stained clothes
Knife at hand
One too many lies
to hold her head high
leaning over the sink
and staring death in the face
looking into the mirror
and finding nothing
a worthless body
full of hate and passion
full of emotion
but yet so empty
it does not matter
how many love her
for she can't look in the mirror
and be pleased with the face seen
she cries and screams
and that ugly mirror
for showing her
the figure said to be her
