Charlotte Poem by adam palmquist

She slashed her skin open,

the dead sea in her mind bled from the veins.

Time passed and cuts healed, but the hatred was forged in her scars.

Every call for help she screamed was met with an echo.

I return to the rose to see its beauty,

It was thrown to the fire

and is now a jagged stem.

I know of her sting.

I talk to her from time to time,

she still wants to kill herself.

She only stays alive for others.