The cold blade on my wrist slices open my flesh,
The red liquid trickles down the path of my skin.
They don’t know what I've been through,
They don’t know the thoughts that flip through my mind
like a fish out of water.
I am broken.
I am tore.
I have open wounds.
No one can save me from my feelings,
They haunt me everyday when they walk down the halls at school,
down the sidewalk, on the streets.
****, fat, ugly
My name tag says things I wasn't born with.
The world tells me I’m just not good enough,
I’m too much of this,
Not enough of that.
My heart drowns in sorrow as my mother sobs over the coffin,
my cold fragile body lies in.
Now, they feel bad.
Now, they miss me.
Now. They care.