But she loves it.

The blade looks so escaping, the metal glistening in the fire of the young girls eyes.
she traces perfect pictures of her obscure life. she watches helplessly as pain takes hold of everything she has.
she loves it. she loves the way the blood forms deep pools at her feet that her soul could swim in forever.
she loves the dotted lines across her wrists, roads to her escape.
she loves the feeling of nothing as the tears collect in the dimples of her cheeks.
numb. numb to everything in the world around her. but its her secret. she hides pretty scars beneath her sleeves.
the world cant know about her twisted sense of wholeness as the blade slashes her raw skin. her blond curls hide everything.
in this materialistic world, no one bothers to wonder what lies beneath ones soul,
none bother to look past the blue in her tired eyes.
no one takes her hand to feel the raised scars that are a reminder to her of what she does to relieve herself of all her troubles.
no one knows what its like to have everything and nothing at the same time.
but she loves it.
she loves the sensation of fresh tears burning in the back of her eyes.
she loves the image of her trembling lips a reflection in the blade that seems to ease the pain.
she loves each and every moment that she spends watching as the world stops around her and everything is still and sound.
she loves it when its just her and the knife.