Bleeding Mascara

Thin curved strokes run along in heavy black,
formed into a picture of perfection,
etching silent streaks as her schoolwork slacks,
drawing away on her wrist of white skin,

a perfect eye her quiet slaving reaps,
vivid and alluring with thick lashes,
her own beauty dances and her heart leaps,
new desires flutter, flagrantly so brash,

her thick black curls, straightened every morning,
thick black lines traced around her eyes like ash,
fallen from glory, leaving life boring,
exploding at the sight of a fresh clash,

traipsing through the halls with this new emblem,
slaughtered in abusive words thrown about,
drowning like a flower with naked stem,
eyes tired and weighing heavy with doubt,

that eye still shining bright on her pale wrist,
she walks home slow, avoiding the slander,
she wishes she didn’t even exist,
enveloped in apathy, life blander,

running to her bedroom, she locks her door,
blazing under their ever mocking gazes,
producing a blade, then she can explore,
tickling against her skin without a faze,

she cuts as she beseeched for the red pain,
she watches the eye, bleeding mascara,
blood yearning to drain, watching in disdain,
beauty fading across passing eras,

intentions diminished, feeble struggles,
bleeding mascara holds no beauty,
out of control her life is yet juggled,
tear stains fulfilling her final duty,

collapsing down like a withered red rose,
sleeping beauty forever, lost in dose...