The sting of the blade is nothing compared to the burn of rejection.
My heart throbs with pain as I take my aggression out on my wrists.
so many things I wish I could say,
I wish I could tell you what you've done to me.
If only I could know what was running through your head, as you spewed out words that cut like razors.
but now I'm literally cut by razors, cut by the pain that everyone has fed me for so long.
Perhaps my life will end like this. cold and lifeless on the floor of the home I dread.
Maybe it will end just in the nick of time, before I do some major damage.
What I have done already will leave marks of my pain, marks of the abuse I've suffered for years on end.
maybe someone could help, but who? Who would be willing to put up with a girl that has as many problems as me?
Thank God they don't see me as I am, or I would be finished, I would never want to show my face again.
Everyone would look at me different, and tell me that I'm not good enough.
Perhaps death is the ultimate answer, and I'm only prolonging my pain everyday that I don't do something about it.