I came to you like a begging dog.
Whimpering and whining for your affection.
But you would just kick me aside like a mangy mutt.
Not good enough for you.
Just a distraught little girl with bloody wrists.
Socially unacceptable.
Always bleeding, always crying.
Someone you wouldn’t even look at.
But I still have a soul. But its slowly shattering.
Like the mirror you stare into.
But soon that soul will be gone.
And with it the bleeding girl.
And you wont notice.
Your life will be as it was before.
Just minus 2 bleeding wrists.
