Blood drips from the blade,
down onto the floor,
The cutting eases the pain,
She wont suffer anymore,
The blade is her best friend,
It is the one that she trusts,
The one that she can turn to,
if life ever becomes too much,
The blade rips through her skin,
tearing into her flesh,
The one that she leans on,
to whom she can confess,
It protects her from all harm,
for the blade it is her guard,
The anger piles up,
builds up deep down inside,
She want to let it out,
so the blade she will confide,
Long sleeved t-shirts,
to cover up her arm,
Cover up the bruises,
cover her self-harm,
Cover up the anger,
the tears, all of the lies,
To fix her shattered heart,
and stop her as she cries,
