Look at the marks on her skin.
The way they tell her pain.
Slit and slash and blood on the brim.
The girl with no name,
Only a snark and a grin.

Lets find out more about her though,
before she becomes a shadow adrift a
raggedy ship.
Twenty-two, a reader, and a Jew,
A master of none, but yes,
a seeker of truth.
She did love this life, a great pretender she was.
Suicide never reveals itself, well, in itself.
It's always because of others.

The man of her nightmares found her.
The rest does not matter.

Tick and Tock, they both go hand in hand.
Her time had come, her time had come.
With a broken heart, but a precious smirk,
She took that blade and danced on her wrist.