Her daddy once told her that just trying her best was enough,
She shook her head and said, "Everything is just so tough."

Her momma once told her she could be anything she dreamed.
She rolled her eyes and said, "That world is make-believe."

Her best friend once told her she was the greatest companion she had.
She scoffed and said, "If that's true, it's pretty bad."

A boy once told her she was the prettiest girl he ever saw.
She smiled and blushed, but said, "That's not true at all."

She didn't see it - all her potential.
All she saw were eyes that were fearful.
She didn't see it - all the love they had for her.
All she saw was a mental sickness with no cure.
She didn't see it - all the life she still had to live.
So across her wrist, that shiny blade slid.

Red, sticky red,
It laced through her fingers,
staining her t-shirt,
but not releasing her demons.

Red, sticky red,
It let her down,
dripping onto the tile,
but no release was found.

After realizing the mistake she just made,
she bandaged up her wrist and got on with the day.
Her daddy and momma, they asked no questions,
oblivious of their sweet little girl's deadly intentions.