There's a girl.
Everyday she sits in the back of the room.
Hiding.
Hiding from reality.
Hiding from the truth.
No one notices her.
No one even cares.

Everyday she goes home and cries.
Pours out her soul.
She screams in the pillow to muffle the sounds.
She no longer feels alive.
Numb to the world.
Numb to everything.
She feels nothing.

Slowly she gets up.
She walks to the bathroom.
In a trance.
She grabs the razor like she does every afternoon.
But today is different.
She's had enough.

She turns on the water and fills the tub.
Scalding hot.
Just what she likes.
She slips in and lets the water burn her.
Lets it creep into every scar.

Her skin's on fire.
But she could care less.
She won't feel the pain much longer.

Shaking, she grabs the razor.
Thin, delicate lines.
All lined up like tally marks.
Counting the times she felt alone.
The times no one cared.
The number of people that hated her.

One by one they bled.
It was like drawing a picture on her precious, porcelain skin.
Spelling out a message.
The message she's been trying to tell everyone.
But no one listens.

The water quickly turned crimson red.
The background to the portrait of her body.

The cracks in her heart grew wider.
But no light could shine in.
For the darkness was taking over.
Just like it had taken over her mind.

No longer would she feel the hate from everyone at school.
No longer would she feel inadequate to her parents' demands.
No one would miss her anyway.
She was just a blur.
Blending into the walls that held her captive.

Soon it would be over.
Shutting out the world that shut her out, she took her last breath.
The life poured out of her.
Her body went limp.
Feeling alive again no longer mattered.