Her Blood Stained Dress

A girl who is all alone...

With a yellow wrist band

And bloody hands

She sits in a room.

"To Write Love On Her Arm,"

Indeed did charm

Her thoughts of death

To lay down to rest.

But that was before,

And this is now;

There's no open doors

And no one's around

To hear her shout,

For love.

Her friends, too, were quite oblivious

To her lascivious

Heart.

And when he said no

She didn't show

Her crisis,

As later that night

She made scars upon her wrist.

She watched life precious liquid

Seep into her dress.

She cried away

All the happy days

She did forget.

She tried to put herself to rest,

With her only friend:

Her blood stained dress.

Author's Note

Never,never,never harm yourself. Nothing is worth hurting yourself or killing yourself. People are ready to help you no matter the problem. Reach out before it's too late.

Reviews

[SpokenWord]

So many suffer alone when there is help available to them. I have never felt this sad that I wanted to cut or end my own life, don't believe I could do that anyway. Sad poem and out look but it is good your pen bleeds this story for us to read. Nice write.