Knife as a brush, skin as the easel. With every stroke emotions run red. All she can do is hate. In fact, she hates everything about her life.
She hates it all now. She couldn't be more confused. No one understands how she feels. No one cares. They only claim to so they don't feel bad about themselves. They don't want to be around her. They don't love her for being who she is. They try to change her. They try to save her. But she doesn't need saving. She needs someone to accept her as she is, and just love her. But she doesn't need some pointless infatuation, no. She needs true love. She wants it all to go away, but with no real reason. There must be more to this life than what she sees. There must be an existence somewhere where she won't feel so alone. She's so beautiful, but she just can't see it. No matter what people say, she can't believe them. She always helps others and tells them they are important, but is unable to see that she, herself, is so precious. She can never allow herself to be loved because she thinks she's unlovable. Or maybe it's that she thinks she's not worth loving. She's so beautiful, yet so ravaged. Ravaged by her own thoughts and how other people see her. People can be so cruel, but sometimes, she is the cruelest. The depravity of humankind is something one can only truly understand once they crawl inside their own skin and make a home there. Once they get to that place, there is nowhere to go but up.
Run. Just run. Run as fast as you can towards what your heart says. No, you can't escape, but as you run from yourself, you run towards hope. And that hope will help protect you from yourself. As you run from yourself, you live your life. When you find your true self once again is when you die. You are born as you, and through life you get away from that. And then, before you die, you connect with yourself again. But what is death? Is it a dream, is it a trance? It's something morbidly beautiful because we don't understand it. Fear of death is cliché. To embrace death is uncommon and so much more fun. This is because when you embrace death, you truly learn to live. Death is the unknown thing that allows us to realize we actually lived. This is a good thing, which means death is good. Death comes for us all, and not knowing when he is coming makes his arrival so much more special. Meeting death on one's own terms seems somewhat impolite. Death comes as a gentleman to escort you. Running to meet him is only going to damage your dress and shoes.
This something I was working on years ago. It isn't really well thought out, but I never got around to posting it before. Here you go!