It’s not easy to say
it’s easier just to show you.
Rolling up her sleeves showing her blood
stained wrists.
And there’s more. She slowly looks down
avoiding the disappointed looks that are
slowly forming on everyone’s faces.
Snickering forms over the next few days
and its starting to get too much.
Day after day
she comes with more Band-Aids
more bangles
and longer sleeves
Comment after comment
cut after cut
It’s harder to hide, harder to cope. Slowly
killing her everyday she’s spending
more time hiding in her room trying to
find a reason not to relapse the she is
going to school and spending time with
“friends”
It’s not easy to show you
it’s easier to just do it.
She finally takes her breath, drifting in and out
of consciousness from the loss of blood and
the bottle of pills with the last words “sorry”