Why am I still standing here,
trying to believe that I am worth it,
peoples eyes are shielded,
because you do not see my hurt.
Over and over again I am told I am beautiful,
but then it's reversed as other people tell me I am ugly,
What do I believe negative seems so much easier,
but the positive is starting to seep to my heart.
I can feel my mind and heart shattering,
as I am torn by two different types of people,
I sat to my self I am not beautiful,
but it seems you are always there to change it.
Now I am standing at the sink alone,
pouting dishes in the dishwasher,
as I pick up a knife from the counter,
I can feel the urge to scrape it across my fingers.
As I start to touch my skin with the knife,
my eyes start to flood with tears,
I scrape it across my left pointer finger,
one two three four cuts more deeper each time.
