I see a girl.
Staring back at me with those eyes so desolate,
Devoid of any happiness that was present before;
Seeing how her face was so desperate,
I couldn't help but to weep some more.
I see a girl.
Gazing at a reflection so revolting,
Her every flaw in the open for anyone to see;
Hoping for her body to just be molting,
Wishing there was a different person she could be.
I see a girl.
Desperate to purge herself of her own thoughts,
She picked up the blade and made a small enough cut;
But that cut led to many more... too big to clot,
She accepted her fate with happiness, though she was anything but.
-not mine. But describes me perfectly.
YOU ARE READING
The broken
PoetryThe stinging burn of the water from my fresh cuts. The hot salty liquid streaming down my red hot cheeks. The times I am in so much pain that I can't even cry anymore.
