She gripped the piece of metal that was her own protection against the pain.
She slowly slid it across her arm.
The crimson red blood flowing out onto the floor
A few seconds later she does it again
except this time a little deeper a little more painfull
she closed her eyes and thought about every thing that had happened,
It all just left another scar, in the mist of a thousand that were already there.
She looked at the wounds.
She looked at the floor, the puddle of blood,
It took everything in her to not want to cut to deep.
She placed the razor in the lock box,
Cleaned up the blood,
Washed the blood away.
Put a couple band-aids on,
Slid into a long sleeve shirt.
Stepped closer to the door,
Took a breath,
and walked out smiling.
A smile hids more then what it shows,
No one would guess i was one who hurt myself,
cause of the pain others have caused.
The pain is addictive,
Only way i know that im still alive,
that i can actually still feel.
despite the fact that i feel numb as hell.