Murder

She used to be confident
She had a lot of friends
She laughed and smiled
Until I killed her.
I killed her the day I picked up that razor
The sting of the blade pierced her heart
And now, she’s gone for good.
I miss her sometimes,
When I’m alone, I cry about it
I ask myself; Was it worth it?
Was it worth the nasty scars?
Was it worth the dirty looks?
People see my scars
People know I’m a murderer
They hate me for it.
I hate me for it.
Was it worth it?