She says,
With fresh coat of plum ,
Across her large lips,
That she's finally finished,
Giving up her pride for the sake,
Of a 3-minute fling.

She says that the only time,
She feels truly complete,
Is when he's inside her.

She says she can't be comfortable,
In her own skin,
With anyone but him.

But she can't see that,
He's destroying her,
From the inside out.

She can't see that each time,
She opens her beautiful green eyes,
I can't see her anymore,
But only her sadness.

I think to myself,
Maybe if I teach her braille,
Then maybe she can finally,
Read what the scars on her wrists really say.