There once was a girl,
who hated the world.
She needed room to breathe,
Her lack of air caused her not to be able to speak,or see.
She's lost in this cruel world,
a world some people call home.
She stands her ground, eyes shining with emptiness,
She's the owner of an empty smile,
She sits in her kitchen counting the cruel lifeless green tiles.
Dreaming of a black and crimson world,
filled with hatred, filled with cold,
She's tired of trying to fit into the mold.
The mold that mixes all these happy people together.
now she dreams of her own little world, imagining she has a hold,
and trying to make up for the lack of emotions...
She pretends not to care,
doesn't give a second glance to their glares.
She inwardly admits she longs for a world,
where she isn't quite so cold.
She imagines she has room to breathe,
so she can see,
when she finally saw a glimmer of what she thought was clarity...
She was at home late one night,
ready and willing to give up on the fight.
She looked under her bed to find her favorite toy,
the toy that brought her, dare I say joy?
She felt it as it skimmed across her skin,
ready to give up, ready to give in.
She finally had the strength to do it,
he pushed her to the end, that stupid jerk,
it was his fault she wanted to do it.
In a single swift movement she slit her wrist...
using her favorite toy, her knife
in an attempt to end her life.
As she watched the crimson flow from her vanes,
she smiled thinking
that she had won...
She never knew it was all in vain.