Be There

October 29, 2011
By Anonymous

The scars on her arm remind her
How she lives in depravity.
Her heart out for sale in the cold,
At least the last shred of it.
Memories of the past flash
In bright, brilliant, exuberant lights.
The horror put on display
In the most Vegas-like way.
To get rid of the aching pain and shame,
She gets rid of her self-worth.
Aiming with bows and arrows,
She wants to bleed it out.
But when she opens her eyes...
Her target is missed,
Hitting the human barricades surrounding it.
She tries over and over
They cry harder and harder
“Why can't you stop doing this to yourself?”
They crawl to her desperately,
Their wounds gathering infection.
They can't protect her
If they die in the crossfire.
To be so close is a conflict...
Wasting their somewhat precious time
On a such an obdurate being.
The complications are astounding...
They don’t have the artillery to deal with it.
She doesn’t know the proper protocol to follow.
With all this trouble she caused,
The spectators should have left long ago.
Just leave her alone to drown
In that crimson, staining red.
But in the end, they'll be there.
And when her new life begins, they'll be there.

The author's comments:
I wrote this about a former close friend who self-harmed. We don't talk much anymore because you can only take so much of the drama. If this poem looks somewhat familiar, it's on my deviantART account "simplyfeel". I edited parts of the poem to make it better than the one on my dA account.

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