The Self-Harmed

~The show must go on~

I  was standing off to the side of the stage behind the curtain as Clara and Owen came onto stage. I could tell Owen was nervous. I knew him. Clara sat on a stool and adjusted the microphone. She nodded at Owen and He nodded back. I was surprised to see him sitting behind the keyboard and so was Caden.

"I rubbed off on him." He smiled.

"Sh." I pushed his arm, with a smile.

"Oh darling, can't you see the way we merge and intertwine? The day that you were born, I said 'I knew you would be mine.' I breathe in and you breathe out. I end where you begin. The fiber of your being and the shivers on your skin. Keep running up that hill my love, keep running to your dream. The life that you're competing for, They'll never hear your screams.

So dine upon my misery, and waste me to my core. Just waiting to be weightless, that's all I'm asking for. Pastel pallor of your face, impassive air of icy grace. Your poker-face, your ribs of lace, dependent on my cold embrace. You're losing at this sluggish pace, You idiotic waste of space. Your guilt and hunger I'll erase, you're winning in this brittle race. Keep running up that hill my love, keep running to your dream.

The life that you're competing for, They'll never hear your screams. So dine upon my misery, and waste me to my core. Just waiting to be weightless, that's all I'm asking for. So punish me for starters, and exert me for dessert. Fragile skin so paper thin, just starve me if it works. Thrust your menu at my strength, seduction at its worst. You'll be my friend until the end, together we are cursed.

Keep running up that hill my love, keep running to your dream. The life that you're competing for, They'll never hear your screams. So dine upon my misery, and waste me to my core. Just waiting to be weightless, that's all I'm asking for. Glossy thinspiration, concave declaration, long limbed exacerbation, of this mental sublimation. Perfection by the pound, and feeling sinless by the stone, just waiting to be weightless, with the volume of my own. I'll keep running up that hill, I will keep running to my dream, the life that I'm competing for, they'll never hear my screams.

So light and high, that I can fly. Above the rest I'll sore. Just waiting to be weightless, that's all I'm craving for."

Everyone stood and clapped as they finished. They both bowed and then left and stood on the other side of the stage. Clara waved at me as I gave Ayelie a hug for support. She sat at the microphone, Alex at the piano.

"There is a girl in the front of my class who I swear I've never seen do anything but laugh. She tall and she's smart, beautiful and strong, and when someone's down she tries to fix what is wrong. How does someone so perfect, feel so insecure as to scar her skin with cuts and burns, and still want to hurt more? How does someone so loving, learn to hate her own guts? Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade as if her mind isn't dark enough. There is a girl in the front of my class who's eyes are glazed over like newly cut glass. The ghost of a smile, hints at her face and she laughs as they tell her 'Who's on first base.'

How does someone so perfect, feel so insecure as to scar her skin with cuts and burns, and still want to hurt more? How does someone so loving, learn to hate her own guts? Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade as if her mind isn't dark enough. There is a girl in the front of my class Who's so sad that you find it rare to see her laugh. Her friends tell her jokes like that one with the guy, but all she does is close her eyes and enter her mind. How does someone so perfect, feel so insecure as to scar her skin with cuts and burns, and still want to hurt more? How does someone so loving, learn to hate her own guts?

Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade as if her mind isn't dark enough. For her imperfections. There was a girl in the front of my class who yesterday took the breath that was her last. She wrote a few notes: I'm sorry I didn't say, but my mind was messed up you couldn't save me anyway. And to the girl in the back of the class who feels the way I did. How does someone so perfect, feel so insecure as to scar her skin with cuts and burns, and still want to hurt more?"