Blood pours,
It stains the marble white floors,
She gently shuts her eyes,
As a whisper of pain she cries,
Her hands violently shake,
Like the after tremors of an earthquake,
The blade cuts into her pale skin,
As she lets the sadness win,
Rusty blood seeps down her arm,
Her skinny stomach takes in a breath, trying, trying to remain calm,
While hot tears pour down her face,
On her body, her scars leave a trace,
She breaks into a cold sweat,
She'll be okay, she told her mother not to fret,
But she's like a living ghost,
Haunting her own life the most,
Her ribs, they stick out of her stomach,
Her hurting heart, it comes alive and causes havoc,
Her eyes, they're as red as blood,
While her tears collect in a puddle and threaten to cause a flood,
She wants to break free, but the daylight haunts her,
Her hair has bald patches from where her hands were taken over by her anger,
Her skin, it's ruined,
It's an array of patterns, starting from when she was saddened,
But she enunciates every word when she's speaking,
Because she prefers listening to just hearing,
Her bony body, it aches,
While her heart it breaks,
Every beat becoming heavier,
While she prays to a god that she doesn't have to get better,
But she can't breathe,
'It will get better', but she doesn't believe,
For she has to learn how to live again,
And all she feels is pain,
She's like a living ghost,
Haunting her own life the most,