• She digs her nails in

    Rakes them down her arm

    This is her favorite part-

    The pain of doing self-harm.

    She scores her wrists

    Using a knife

    She just wanted the hurt

    She didn’t want to end her life.

    She tried so hard

    So hard to understand

    But then she had dreams

    Nightmares of being damned

    She had to ask

    She needed to know

    Why she did it

    As she watched her blood flow.

    Her wrists are torn

    The crimson drips

    Her spirit fades

    As away her life slips.

    No matter what they want

    Or how hard they try

    They’ll never understand

    As she slowly dies...






    Sitting down I think.
    What the hell.
    My mind is lost to the endless thoughts
    that burn and scorch my soul.
    I died again.
    No lights, just darkness and noise.
    Screams of children,
    the agonizing pain that ripped through their body
    and minds I felt.
    Why is death so hurtful?
    Why must I die daily?
    Does anyone care for the screaming children?
    I wouldn’t know.
    I’m just the host to this unfair curse of a death.