This Girl Who Is Me

She grasps the knife with the tightest grip.
And feeling her skin tear, she slowly lets it slip.
She cuts herself repeatedly, ten times to be exact.

Slowly she lists a reason for every knife contact.

Number one, she says, is for all of the times she should have had fun.
Instead of being left at home, as if she didn't exist, forever alone.

Now on to number two, this is for all of the things that alcohol made her do.
All of the times she should have only had a few,
But drank too much and ended up freaking out on you.

After listing number two, she thought, and then began to cry.
Now she remembers why she must die.

Number three, she continued, this ones for everything I wished you and I could be.
The way I always longed for you to tell me you love me.

The hurt is soon over, soon I'll be set free.

Number four, the one for all of the times she had been called a wh0re.
And for the mistakes she had made last time, and the time before.
This one is also for the time she hadn't said a word,
and just let him walk out the door.

Number five, she thinks, this is for all of the times she felt so un-alive.
and for the chances she had, but never took the dive.

After number five she hopes her heart they cannot revive.

Number six is for the time she took on too many hits,
and yet again threw another one of her stupid fits.

Number seven is for her new home in heaven, and the hope that the lord will pleas consider her forgiven.
and also for all the people who took the joy out of living.

Now is number eight, this ones for all of those times she chose to hesitate.
and those times she realized that she loved him, only to find out she was a few minutes too late.

Number nine, this one is for crossing that final line.
And for all those people who told her she would be fine.
But she's really proving them wrong this time.

Finally number ten, this one, of course, is for her heart, her heart which is broken.
Its over now, too bad no one ever took the time to help or listen.

Some may cry, some will even ask why.
But in the end the truth is, this girl never had to die.

If only someone would have helped her find her way,
or just took some time to make her feel okay.

If you can't tell this poem is a cry for help from you,
because the only place that this girl really exists is in everything I do.

Please don't let me end this way.
So if you see that I am sad, please don't leave, just stay.
Because, don't you understand, without your help, this girl will be me someday.