Pain Poem by Celeste Villa

Scars adorn her body, each line beautiful.
Her own thoughts shatter her soul into fragments.
Blood fills her hands in thick proportions.
Screams are not heard, they are ignored.
No matter how hard she wants to escape, she can't.
This is the hell she's designed for herself.
Pain no longer is a foreign concept.
She has grown so fond of it, she loves it.
To her the blood is proof that she is living.
She is nothing more but a living corpse.
Her smile loses its sanity, her face masking a monster.
She is happy to meet her destruction.
The truth is, her demons have won.
Their sinful ways have led to her fall.
As she looks at the moon she knows it is her time.
She cannot live this way anymore.
They have all told her to die, she is going by majority rules.
The world is to blame for her death.
She was born in the wrong time, and she has suffered for it.
A smile graces her face in the bright light of the moon.
She is no more than a tragedy hanging by the neck.