One turns to two.
Then three.
Then four.
Soon theres a tiny puddle of blood pooled up on the floor.
But she still stands up,
cleans the mess and gets dressed.
No one can know how she really feels,
she's depressed.
She'll put on that fake smile,
and joke with you all day.
Though, the second she gets home the smiles fade away.
She reaches for someone only to find cold hard steel.
It's the only thing she has anymore,
leaving reminders of pain that was just to real.