The Diary On Her Arm

She hides behind a smile of glass, waiting to be shattered.

Wishing she could spill out her feelings in words, drops of her own blood come instead.

With her razor pen, and crimson ink, she fills her diary with her thoughts and feelings.

Faster and faster she writes, pain is present, but barely recognizable.

Finally, her pen is dull.
Her ink has run out
- - and the words that were longing to be spoken, will never be heard.