She cuts herself. Never too deep, never enough to die. But enough to feel the pain. Enough to feel the scream inside.

The lines I wear around my wrist are there to prove that I exist.

a broken mirror a bleeding fist a silver blade against a wrist tears falling down to lips unkissed she's not the kind you'll come to miss

 

Have you ever felt the need to slit your wrist,
let all feelings of guilt and depression bleed out,
then sew yourself up to be happy again?

That's the problem with cutting. Once you start, you can't stop. It's addicting, cutting is my drug. It serves its purpose perfectly. Once I cut, I forget about everything that has been wrong. All that is left is my concentration on my cut. I forget about everything but the pain. Pain has become my world. --- ConcretAngel

Close your eyes, and imagine 5, 10, 15 years from now. You are with your husband and maybe 2, 3 or so kids and your a very happy family, and very self-full-filled and your life is perfect just the way you had always dreamed and hoped, and then your little 5 year old child asks you: "mommy, why do you have all those white scars on your arm?" and then what will you say? I used to take a razor and pull it down real slow and carefully and watch the blood drop out of my skin so that I could see that I am still alive, or so I could feel real physical pain instead of emotional pain. No you can't say that to your child. and even if you do then your child will learn from you and do the same to themselves when ever they are feeling down. you don't really want that now do you.

A Broken Mirror, A Bleeding Fist
A silver Blade Against A Wrist
Tears Falling Down To Lips Unkissed
Ignore Her And She Won't Exist
She's Not The Kind You'll Come To Miss

"When will people understand that words can cut as sharply as any blade, and that those cuts leave scars upon our souls."