She Calls Out To the Blade

She calls out to the blade
Who responds so violently
Blood dripping down her arm
The sight she loves to see.

No one ever sees
Long sleeves is all she wears
It doesn't hurt as much anymore
Each time getting more pleasurable than the last.

Last night she wanted to die
Slammed her bruised head against the wall
Just a little blood tricked down her face
She didn't die, but the hurt was pleasure enough.

Such a good girl is all she hears
Who would of guessed she does this at night.
Laughed at at school, but who isn't?
No one knew, that blood was her love.

She not rich and skinny
Hate to look in the mirror
Weird, fat, poor, dirt bag, scumbag, loser, and much more.
Labeled by stereotypes at her school.

She's hurting so bad.
No one sees the signs
It is so obvious
But still no one knows.

You'll never see her cry
She hides behind a smile
She doesn't know herself anymore
Her life is spiraling out of control.

The hurt is so deep
She wonders if she should tell
Would they understand?
Why she calls the blade her friend?

They would ask why
She cant explain
They would say its just a pity cry
She would wish she never told.

They say its wrong
Its a sin
But what if its the only way out?
This fantasy of suicide.

In this world many call life
Most dream of better things.
But a hurting soul
Only dreams of death

She could be in your class
The one who is writing while everyone is listening
She could be the girl
Sitting right next to you.

She has her pencil and notebook out
Plotting how to end it all.
One deep slit in her wrist with the passionate blade
Maybe that bottle of pills by her bed stand, you'll never know.

And when it happens
You'll wish you knew before
Maybe you could stop her
Or maybe its just the regret speaking

But she'll leave a message for you
It'll say something you don't want to hear,
"Thank you for pushing me over the edge. Hope your happy. Sorry gotta stop writing. I'm seeing blackness.

Do you feel sorry now?
Remember that fat girl in school?
She's dead now
Are you laughing now?

When you hear her name
Or a whisper in the wind
Or the sight of a razor blade
Just remember that there was a girl who.......

She calls out to the blade
Who responds so violently.
Blood dripping down her arm.
The sight she loves to see.

Copyright Jessica Quick