She holds a deadly weapon in her hand.
She’s unheard, but takes a dangerous stand.
Her wrists are too bare to slice,
She needn’t worry wondering eyes.
Her knife cuts through thigh,
Maybe deep enough for her to die.
She watches crimson quickly pour,
And longingly wants so much more.
She slices through fears,
Washes away all her tears.
Watching her blood slowly drip,
Bringing it to her lips for a sip,
And tastes her forever-horrible pain,
Then washes it all away in black rain.
Her fingertips itch for more blood,
Perhaps enough for a scarlet flood.
She backs into a dark corner,
She should have done this sooner.
Holding the knife way up high,
Bringing it forth as she cries.
Striking her face with painful blows,
When family wakes, they’ll finally know.
She silently stabs her broken heart,
So much pain has now torn her apart.
