A little Story

Not rly a poem but a little story for everyone to think...

The scars on her wrists tell the story of the life she couldn’t master. The music in her ears expresses her glory she wanted so hard to reach. Afraid of loosing control and letting her feelings go, she walks through this life pretending to be blind. The tears which she doesn't want to show mark the pillows in her room in which she is all alone. Everyday she cuts, everyday she bleeds, trying to escape into her fantasy world. She walks around the streets, hoping to find something that can get her up high. Something else than suicide. The ignorance and arrogance she was treated with everyday made her fall. She saw no hope anymore except in the house of God. But someday she felt He left her, too. She wandered looking for a dream coming true, drawing all kind of pictures, writing all sorts of poems, letting her aggressions out silently. Her tears and blood made a mixture she loved to see, like a picture that gave her hope, like a stain she couldn't get her eyes off. Her parents didn't care and didn't see what happened to their daughter. She was raped, she was abused, she cried every night while putting on a smile for the day she spent at university. Always wearing long sleeves to cover the cuts, always closing her books to hide the drawings and poems, always sealing her lips to bury the screams. Rejected by her environment, she kept on surviving, till one day it was too much. People called her dirty words and once again she played deaf. She wasn't a quitter, but she quit living on dreams that very same day. She locked the bathroom door and stayed inside with a razor, her diary, drawings and poems. She didn't have the chance to come back out for when her mom smashed the door, she found her dead daughter on the bathroom floor with her pieces of art marked with blood.