a cut above all the rest

won't it?

the scars on her wrist
are one thing to bear
another thing to feel
and another thing to tear

although it's not people
that drive her to disspair
it's the thoughts in her head
that brings her skin to tares

it's the countless nights
alone with her thoughts
that drive her to the blade
that will soon drive her to the morgue

it's the birds that begin to chirp
and the clock that reads 6:31
it's the fact that she has not yet slept
and will not for a little while to come

it's the red puffed eyes
to match the red puffed skin
and the once again seen
as a perfect looking grin

it's what hides behind her eyes
and the smile that create an imposter
but maybe it's the lies she tells
that really deserve an oscar

the most common reply
worn out with 'i'm just tired'
is much easier than the explanation of why she's sad that will be required

she then again will manage the terrifying fear
of dragging her own body back to where her thoughts should be clear

but instead of the refreshing
brand new start
it's the demons that accompany her
wrists made of art

the fears she dreaded the night before
the same she will tonight
it will be them same fears that haunt her
and make it harder to believe that it will, someday,
be
alright