Porcelain girl

Skin like porcelain
blood like wine
it runs in rivers
the same every time

they're tears from her soul
story's told bold
from eyes like coal,
they say "this feeling's so old"

The razor's sharp and clean,
cuts made deep
feeling torn at the seams,
she feels she needs to sleep.

she lays down her head
on a tear-stained pillow
wishing she was dead,
she lets the blood flow

and as she sinks into her sleep,
an apology for cuts so deep.
"and if i die before i wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take"