The girl who hates herself
Sitting in the bathtub with bruises on her thighs-cut marks on her hips
And stitches on her wrist

It's been 24 hours science she took that blade to her wrist
So effortlessly, like she's practiced the dangers of the game
To know just how deep to dig
To stop her beautiful heart

It's a cliche story, but tragic nonetheless
The story of a restless teenager that forgives the unspeakable
But can never forgive herself
Forgive herself for the weight she's put on
Can't forgive herself, for he's scarred her lips
When he kissed her, he created a disease.
A poison. Passed to his victim.
Self hatred is what she breathes
Always under the sea.
Wishes to join Deaths journey of pain

But her mother, her mothers heart breaks
Why is her little girl so full of hate?
Comfort, beg, don't do it again
I love you, I love you
Her father
Her father thinks she's ******
He doesn't understand the selfishness of
His beautiful, abusive daughter

She cries,her tears so bitter
Please, please, the liquid red dripping
Filling the tub, clouded water
Mom, mommy, I want you to save me
Dad, daddy, why don't you love me?
She wants to be dead, she feels it again
The overwhelming tiredness, sadness
And it's too much
Reopening the stitches
It's too much

Blood flows from my wrist like carbon dioxide from my lungs
I search in the endless sea for the stitching but it must be buried under the rocks

Somewhere a child cries; his mother won't feed him
Imagine yourself as the mother
Now as the child
I am both the mother
And child
I am hungry;
Starving
But, I cannot feed myself
Because of the calories and the
Weight

My skin, it tears at the thought
Of eating
I tear it open; it tears me open
****** wrist, ****** thighs
It comes in slowly and rapid movement
My heart barley beats; it thumps
Softly against my fingers
Too many pills I guess
Too much pain, I guess

I'm ruining my insides so you can see my bones.

she wears 12 human teeth around her neck and when i ask why she tells me it's art
but i cant help but wonder where she got those teeth and if she made the necklace or did she buy it?
are they real teeth or just molds of something that used to be?
and is she a sick psychopath or just an unusual artist?  
as the weeks go by i touch the teeth they're real, they're human, shes sick
there's 14 teeth on the string now and she holds them in her palms
tears down her face she plucks, like petals, the teeth, shes sick

grabs her hair, cuts chunk by chunk off her head
i grab the knife still she cries she wont let go shes sick
we walk in the house, bodies,
bodies!
dismembered people strewn about her kitchen
how can the neighbors stand the smell?
i count, one two three fourteen shes sick, dear god, she's sick!
she cries she screams look what I've done!
its art! she cries it's art!  

the sirens come close who called?
thirty i mean sixty men push through the door surround
put our hands on our heads why me ?!

i scream she screams our hands go up
i close my eyes make it stop please god just make it stop
open shes gone i turn around the cops aim straight
flashes flashes flashing back to the night
its me, it's me, dear god, i'm sick!

she smells like rain on a humid summers day and she tastes like blackberries freshly picked off the bush.
when she laughs, it makes the humming birds sound like nails on a chalkboard and i know how cliche this all sounds but she walks like an angel and i cant help but notice she sings with her tears, she disperses the pain. she makes me want to write about butterfly's and flowers instead of cut wrists and veins.
I tell her I love her. She replies with a kiss never confessing her love but I say it anyways because her smile creates this feeling in me I haven't felt since childhood and she needs to know she is loved. when I feel her bones on my hips I cringe she's so thin.
The disorder, it's gotten hold of her. We both have bruised knuckles and neither one wanting  to confide in another the reason we shake.
But I know her secret and I know she knows too. We've never been on a date because dates consist of eating and neither one of us are ready.
Ready to show our own bruises, our protruding broken hearts. I just hope they melt together and if they don't I'll sew them. We can beat together because we already do. We hurt the same, we have he same demons and they visit us at night when were alone and always lonely.
Hold my hands I'll hold yours too but your fingers they're so cold I fold them to my heart. If we're together tonight the monsters stay hidden, fall in love with each other, not in love with our demons.