They're Lying.

Not about me.

She plunges the razor into her wrist,

leaving a jagged cut in the scarred pale skin.

So used to this,

The pain is not felt.

So used to this,

She doesn't stop.

She cuts deeper and deeper,

soon-to-be scars take the place of the skin.

Sweet crimson tears pile up,

surrounded by the razor's harm.

She cuts her wrists, 

her arms,

her legs.

Carving "Your Fault"

into every line made.

She hits the bone every time,

those crimson tears never stopping.

Her attempts to block out the pain...

Her attempts to block out the depression...

No one listened to what the scars meant.

No one heard her piercing screams of mercy.

Her heart was next,

she thought.

She plunged the razor into her chest,

beads of red flowing out.

Bloody Angel, why?

Bloody Angel....

Why?

Author's Note

Yeahh...
Not about me..

Reviews

[HopelesslyDevoted]

really intense, but incredible writing!

[Alice In My Own Wonderl..]

Wow..

[Em!<3 =3)]

Your a really good writer really good jod

[CharlesMonroe]

This is good, and in a dark, twisted way beautiful. It's sad though, but still amazing, good job (: