Honey take away the blade
From those innocent little wrists
You're far too precious
To hurt yourself like this.
Baby, take your fingers
From down your throat,
You're far too beautiful,
To make yourself gag and joke.
Sweetheart, empty those pills,
From your hands
You're far too gifted
To slip through the sands
Of time.
Darling, take the fist away,
From your head,
Your far too special,
Take your fist to a pillow instead.
Angel, take all those self destructive thoughts and hold yourself in your arms,
You're worth so much more and deserve so much better,
than to cause your self harm.
I promise.

Something must make you happy;
something must make you sad.
Humans cannot simply be.
Events construct emotions.
Right?
Something must be wrong with her-
An extra something, making her disturbed.
Removing that will fix her, yes?
An extra foot of hair- watch it fall from silver sheers;
an extra twenty pounds- watch as each disappears;
an extra pint of blood- feel it evaporate with old fears.
With everything wrong now gone there is no sorrow.

Sadness is not replaced with joy,
it's not replaced at all.
The hollow void must be filled somehow.
Something must be wrong with her-
A missing something, making her incomplete.
Adding that will fix her up, yes?
One more earring- a small silver pin;
One more scar- a memory on her skin;
One more boy- feel him feel her in sin.

Addition and subtraction won't make a person whole,
but it's too late now for her to walk away.
She's started a complex equation
and will never see the solution defined.