you ignore my pleas for help,
you don’t look at me until it suits you.
you don’t look at me until there is blood
blood, blood dripping down my wrists.

but then it’s too late
the damage has been done
the wounds have healed
and the only thing left are the tears
on my cheeks
and the blood that has stained the carpet.
my blood washes out
and if you try hard enough you’ll soon forget my cries for help.

once my blood has gone and my cries silenced
i will rise from my spot
i will brush off my tears and i will continue on
each step I take followed by a drop of blood.
each breath i take followed by a stab in my chest.