Loose Threads

Sluts and Suicide

She layers her face with makeup
Her lips lined and lipsticked
She's hiding
Hiding from her fears
Just a mask of the girl she once used to be
now stuck somewhere between her worst nightmares and reality
She's the apparent slut
She's the girl they all hate
She's the girl they all whisper about
She's the girl they all jeer at
She's the girl they think is supposedly perfect

As she parades through the hallways
As her heels click on the polished floors
They whisper lies upon lies
Spreading rumours near and afar
"Such a whore"
"What a joke"
"She should just kill herself"
"What's she still doing in school?"
She pretends not to hear
But inside it's killing her
Piece by piece
Slowly but surely
They're leaving their mark
They're tearing her apart
She wants to scream
She wants to shout
No she's not perfect
No she's not a slut

Because beneath all these layers
Lay something their eyes are too clouded to see
Bruises and Scars clothe her arms and legs
Much like herself
They're hiding
Only, they're hiding beneath Giorgio Armani
Her soul is broken
She finds no reason to live
But she is waiting
waiting and hoping for her own fairytale

That night as the knives come out
She trembles in fear
Frightened of the act she's about to commit
Her tears caress her porcelain cheeks
Her stomach has become a bottomless pit
But with one last breath and a whisper of bye bye
She plunges it in her chest
the knife penetrating her heart  
With a horrendous thud, she tumbles down
Laying next to the note of farewell

"She killed herself"
"What a coward"
"No, what a whore!"
"She probably got knocked up!"
They continue to gossip and spread rumours about her misfortune
As though she was the cause of this all
Apparently her suicide was her fault
Like how a rape is always a victim's
But no, she didn't kill herself
Nor was she asking for it
They killed her
You killed
I killed her
We killed her
We did the impossible
We killed the girl who was battling her own demons
We killed the girl who cried and cried into her pillow every night
Who wished life wasn't her personal poison
Who came to school hiding her scars
Who drowned herself in rumours
Who layered herself with makeup
We say she's a whore
We say she's perfect
And we say she's unwanted
But she wasn't a whore
Nor was she unwanted
Her imperfections and her flaws made her perfect
But we tried to change her
We tried to make her what we wanted her to be
By feeding her lies of "Be who you want to be",
We tried to make her perfect in the eyes of society
A mere copy of a copy
That's what we want
Being different is bad
Being the same is good

Together, we tried
But together, we failed
And together we lied
Together we killed
Together I killed
Together you killed
Together we killed her.

Dedicated to every mean girl. We judge them and call them hoes and sluts and whores, claiming they deserve to be subjected to such harsh labelling but often we're the bullies and not them.

From Elliot