The scars that line her body
also line her broken soul.
The blood that she has shed,
has long run cold.
Her fingers grip the knife,
fearing the sound it will make
if she were to let it drop.
She spent so long trying to hide,
spent so long trying to close herself,
making sure no one saw her pain.
Why should they see,
they were the ones,
the ones who made her suffer.
She's tired of breathing and living in a world,
so full of hate.
What can she do?
She digs a little deeper,
watches the blood flow
knows her time is up
and finally says
Goodnight
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 10:24 AM UTC
The scars that line her body
also line her broken soul.
The blood that she has shed,
has long run cold.
Her fingers grip the knife,
fearing the sound it will make
if she were to let it drop.
She spent so long trying to hide,
spent so long trying to close herself,
making sure no one saw her pain.
Why should they see,
they were the ones,
the ones who made her suffer.
She's tired of breathing and living in a world,
so full of hate.
What can she do?
She digs a little deeper,
watches the blood flow
knows her time is up
and finally says
Goodnight
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