He screamed into the night, believing no one was listening.

He cried out of fright, his eyes dark and glistening.

His thin wrists continued to bleed, razor sharp cuts made clear with crimson.

His heart begs to feed, far from the sorrow he lives on.

His mind told him to never wait, no one would search for him.

But his mind knew not of fate, and there was a light in the dim.

There stood a girl - willing to fall in love, and there was a boy - about to fall apart.

And then came the tale that all were in awe of, where they shared a broken heart.

She began to paint one night,
Never having taken a lesson in her life.

She didn't know what she was painting,
She didn't really know how to either.

But she picked up a brush,
And began to speak.

Her bristles spelt out words,
Her colours make the canvas scream.

The works she had done before spoke the stories of her heart,
The tales of her memories.

Anyone who had seen her canvases saw genius,
Saw light.

But when she looked at them,
She saw nothing.

She knew what they meant,
Each story embedded in her brain.

Her pain, and her hurt,
There for people to critique.

And the paint she used,
Seemed so bare and bleak.

She had been so desperate for colour,
She had tried to draw it from her skin several times.

But no one knew,
And no one ever would know.

Because in the end,
the only colour she really wanted to see was black.

Because these greys she saw as she stared at her work,
Told her she would never be able to understand how beautiful her words were.

she stared of into the morning sky,
watching the delicate birds fly.

they were so peaceful in the atmosphere,
left her wishing that she wasn't here.

blood stained her scarred wrists,
her hands forming clenched fists.

her knuckles were bruised and harshly beaten,
and all day, she'd hardly eaten.

there were tears in her eyes,
those as blue as the skies.

her hollow chest held a heart that hurt,
a heart that had been thoroughly stomped in the dirt.

there were anchors in her lungs,
that she'd had since she was young.

as she stared into the midnight skies,
there were tears in her light blue eyes.

the birds flew past the window sills,
and that's when she took one too many pills.

Forgive the scars on my legs, arms and knees,
Mistake them for the joys of childhood and take them as nothing but scratches.

Forget the blood on my hands,
Mistake it for my fall that must have happened because I was clumsy, not dizzy.

Forgive my uncovered bones,
Mistake them for my genes and not the food I never eat.

Forget the skeletons I hide,
Mistake them for a trick of the light that hardly shines into my room through my old curtains.

Forgive my tired eyes,
Mistake the sleeplessness for eagerness of the next day, keeping my thoughts alive throughout the night.

I shall remind you of this every day.

But I beg of you, my friend.

Notice of my fresh scars,
Don't take them as nothing.

Remember the new blood,
Don't leave me to help myself up.

Notice my ever present ribs,
Don't let me push away my plate again.

Remember those ***** skeletons,
Don't allow me to hide what hurts me so terribly.

Notice my teary, tired eyes,
Don't smile and pretend you don't notice how much I've cried last night.

I know you're scared, my friend.

Of saying the wrong thing.

But anything is better than nothing, my friend.

Please.

I need someone to help me.