"I just like bracelets."
She says.
That's not true.
She just likes to cover up the marks of her pain and sorrow,
And hide the true part of her,
The side she never wishes to see the light of day.
As far as people are concerned,
That part of her doesn't exist,
And never has.
Its the part of her,
Thats her demons,
Behind her teeth that slip through her smile,
And behind her emerald green eyes,
That are the gateway to her miserable,
And ever-suffering soul,
Of a teenage girl,
A teenage cutter,
A teenage disaster.