Her eyes bore like drills
Unseeing into the ceiling
Her mind, a wasted skeleton
Bone dried by incessant bleeding.
The sheets are stained red
An open wrist, a razorblade.
You stare at the scene
Like you always have
Then walk away
Erased from your head.
Her screams float in the air
Trapped behind wooden doors
Happiness dare not enter
When life is such a whore.
But her scars speak the truth
You just don't let it speak to you
So you chose to instead turn a blind eye
And comfort yourself with a blanket of lies.
You chose to live pretending
Only smiles adorn her lips.
That she never feels alone
And a happy girl lives in your home.
