When she's
alone,
She lets it all out.
The tears.
The cries.
The screams.
She hates who she is.
She hates who she's become.
She can't stand any of it.
She tunes it all out and turns the music up as loud as she
can.
She pulls her razor out, hidden under the pile of clothes in her
top drawer.
"Just one more time..."
She tells herself.
But that one slit turns to two, three, four.
It's gotten so bad, that it's all she can think
about.
She's got millions of secrets under her sleeves,
But everytime someone cares enough to ask,
"What's wrong."
She answer the same everytime.
"Nothing. I'm totally
fine."
