Delicate Skin, Like Paper.
Her wrists like battlefields.
She's at war with herself,
Yet no one knows. She keeps
It all hidden with long sleeves,
And fake smiles. She cries silently,
As blood cascades from her fragile wrists.
She cleans up her wounds,
And prepares for battle.
The name calling,
The fighting and the heartache.
If only her friends would take the time to see,
They’d be able to keep her from,
What she was about to do,
What was about to come.
She sat alone, with a note in hand,
Ready for the pain.
She called her friends to say goodbye,
Yet she felt she had so much yet to say.
Thank you for all the good times,
For being there for all the bad, yet she couldn't
Say the words that made her feel so sad.
That made her regret
What she had done,
On that fateful day.
She drowned her sorrow in some pills,
And cut deep down and away.
For now until forever ends,
Her friends will feel the pain,
For losing their angel,
The one who had always been there,
Now all of them so lonely,
And now, they are all so sad.
