She laughs
And acts like shes listening to the conversation
They don't notice the visage
That she hides behind
Her thoughts drift to 2 hours from now
When the mask has been put away
And she faces the pain that she buries
At the beginning of each day
Nobody sees the scars on her thin wrists
Noboday knows how she feels
Though now she may be smiling
and gliding through each day
A little tired
A little thin
But overall ok
You don't see the blood on the floor
You don't see the tears as they fall like rain
You don't see her pain
And in 3 hours
the knife will be put away
The blood stains washed down the drain
The same blade
The same place
The same everyday
Black and red wristbands
Cover the marks she makes
No trace of them at all
Is left in their wake
She just smiles like nothings wrong
Laughs like it's prefect
Acts like it's all a dream
And pretends shes not killing herself slowly
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem