She played music to her wrist every night.
Blade to wrist, blade to wrist.
A musical of sorrow,
of tears.
Pushed past breaking point,
no where to go.
She feels like she is suffocating,
dying on the inside.
So, she cuts.
She cuts to breathe.
To get away from her overbearing parents.
To get away from the homework.
She cuts.
Every time she cuts,
it's like she's cutting me too.
I love her so much, she's like my sister.
Knowing that I can't do anything to help her **** me.
If you die, I'll die with you.
Maybe just not in the same way you die.
I'll die on the inside.
That's the worst kind of death.
But,
I've lost so much.
I don't want to lose you too.