Our little cutter girl.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A peom for people who feel alone.

Submitted: January 09, 2008

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Submitted: January 09, 2008

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She sits alone.
Razor in hand.
Blood on the floor.
She doesn’t know why.
The endorphins rush all through her body, it kills the coldness.
The warm liquid trickles down her arm.
She doesn’t want to die, just feel.
They call her emo but she doesn’t care, they call her an attention seeker but she hides the scars.
Her smiles aren’t real.
Neither are her tears.
She loves her friends that’s why she doesn’t tell them.
They feel the same. But she doesn’t realise.
Her friends love, bleed, fall and hurt just the same.
Maybe she’s selfish, maybe protective, I think she just feels alone.
The popular destroyed her.
Innocence stolen by ignorance.
Love killed by hate.
One day she’ll realise how much we love her.
And how little the hate really matters.
But for now,
She whipes the blood from the floor.
Hides the razor.
And sits alone.


Your friends love you, talk to them, they can help you get over self harm.


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