A Cry for Help

A girl may seem happy, all girls have this gift;
she stands strong on the outside but inside is bent.
A time ago her eyes were brighter than the sun,
but now remain empty as she reaches for someone.

Her eyes are clouded as she stands alone,
surrounded by stangers she'll never know.
The tears roll down her once happy cheeks;
She can't hide her emotion; her heart, it leaks.

She was in love with a boy she hadn't really ever seen,
thought he loved her back, but what the hell does that mean?
A friendship ended from a jealous fight;
with the stress of all this she thought, "Why live life?"

Then an idea came as she reached for the blade;
through the pain she felt nothing, her emotions astray.
Her skin tore and she bled, the blade one with herself;
but the depth of her pain made it never enough.

She reached for the salt, hastily sprinkling it in,
then she craved more relief, so deeper she went.
Her eyes cried more, and she needed more burn,
she then tipped the nail polish, it too got a turn.

Friends noticed all the cuts and made her promise to stop,
but what's a promise to a heart that leaks everything out?
Her parents got mad and refused to understand.
they told her to stop, simply passed a command.

She was now in deep trouble, and she wanted to quit.
She got rid of the knife and tried hard to commit.
There were so many pains, she didn't want to just, live,
so she took up writing as her way to forgive.

She put her heart on the paper, tried to make them all see,
They complimented her poems, but this wouldn't set her free.
She was heart-broken, branded, burned on her arm,
and she'd always believe it, like she'd always wear the scar.

No one would listen so what good would it do?
frustrated, she turned to the one thing she knew.
She again took up the blade, again she would start;
unknowingly cutting more holes in her already broken heart.

So unstably mixed up, she was trying to be smart,
but was lost in a maze of head versus heart.
Voices all around her, one horrifying sound,
she didn't know where to turn, thought she'd never be found.

Someone must come along and pull her out of her hole,
with a guiding hand and heart to help her form a new mold.
But if not sometime soon she may fall too far,
and be remembered not by her face, but by scars on her arm.

So she waits...

Her eyes are clouded as she lies alone,
remembering the strangers she'd never really know.
The blood from her arm mixes with tears from her cheek,
losing her life because of a heart with too many leaks...

(*dedicated to Andrea Lea Dake*)