I was sick and tired of all the teasing
All the sadness, and the pain
Making myself prettier for them
But none of them can accept me for who I am.
I promised myself once that I’d never cut
Never put a scar on my pretty little wrist,
But now they’ve hurt me, teased me, tormented me.
It grew harder to use my self control.
I reminded myself that I should never let the doubt to creep in my head
That I was different, an oddball, an outcast.
I made myself believe that I’m special
But they took the one thing that I tried to protect
And now that’s gone, I’ve nothing to live for
So I came up with this idea
They’d hate it it, I promise.
Because their name is on it
Written in my wet blood
Next to my red wrists and my black hair and dead green eyes
Staring at the things I’d never read again.
© Copyright 2016 Ryoka. All rights reserved.
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