Sorrowing in the Dark

Through the smiling there's glassy eyes,

when she cries she feels weak,

Slut, fatty and psycho are her names,

She gives up to razor blades.

Scars on her arms and legs,

pain is wonderful,

its her friend.

Every day her hair down,

it hides her eyes,

her nose,

her mouth.

It hides the beauty thats unfound.

Sitting alone in the dark,

she looks at her scars 

and remembers the reasons

that caused them.

Sometimes she wonders 

what it would be like to have

clear skin,

happiness

and no pain.

She cant see past the bad,

so she claims.

She wonders whats wrong with her?

How different am i 

to  the people who think they stand

above me?

To the ones who push me down?

To everyone thats made me frown?

She wonders will i survive this fight?

Will i give in and lose?

Will i be a role model for those like me?

Or will i be known as the coward who 

fell off her horse?

Do i even matter anymore?