She sits alone trapped within herself.
Everyday is just another day shes made it through.
She's fighting a battle against her mind.
Shes trying to hold on, for whatever it may take.
Telling herself she cannot cry, tears are a sign.
A sign of weakness, she cannot be weak
For then others will see, she has to be strong.
She will do anything to keep others out and
To stop them from seeing.
She develops her own cure, her own secret
A secret that will eventually take over her...
Hidden within her secret belongings
A sharp razor, the perfect size.
As her heart is beating feurosiously
she drags the razor across her skin, relief.
Everything pauses, and for a moment
she feels bliss. But then its all back
All the memories and all the pain.
One more drag, bliss. Over and over.
The process never stops.
The blood drips, the tears stop.
She cleans up her mess.
hoping and praying that she will never have to again.
But knowing she will.Puts the razor back...
So now all is done, her wounds are nursed
and she says goodbye until next time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem