Ask HerShe wears sweaters everyday, and silently begs for you to ask why. Ask her why she is wearing a sweater on the hottest day of the year. Sometimes when you are around, she will pull up the sleaves to reveal cuts with bad make up jobs trying to hide them. All she wants is for you to ask about them. She is in all of your classes, and even sit next to her in two. Yet you never ask her that one question she wants to hear come from you. She knows you see them, you look at them often. When you ask her what homework is assigned in English, she gets lost in your dreamy, unrealistic, hazel eyes. You end up having to repeat the question twice, but everytime, it's not the question she wants. All she wants is for you to ask, "Why do you wear sweaters everyday?" or "How did you get those cuts?" But you are the "popular" boy, the boy who probably doesn't even know her name...
I'm BreakingI have given so many hints. Too many to count. I have written stories and poems. I have tried to tell you so many times. I have given you too many hints now, it's time for you to just figure it out. Its time for you to piece together the puzzle. I told you I'm writing sad and depressing stories and poems, that my knife won't cut. Why are you so blind to me? Why can't you just see what I have told you so many times now? I need you right now.
Blades, Pills ,and Drugs."Don't let her get to you." He would say.
But I did let it get to me, all of those years of being called worthless and usless, have turned me to stone. Her words don't pain me anymore. They just flow through me now.
"Don't listen to her." He would say.
But I did listen to her. All of those years of being called a discrace and mistake have turned me down the wrong path. My blade is my bestfriend and pills are my savior.
"She doesn't mean it." He would say.
But she did. She ment every word. All of those years of being called a bitch and a whore have made me want to die. The marijuana is my life line, and the blade is now my savior.
"She really does love you." He would say.
But she doesn't. All of those years of being called unloved and trash have weakened me down too much. The marijuana is my last hope, the blade is my life line, and the pills are my savior.
Blades, pills, and drugs. It's all I know now. I don't know a thing called love...
Where Were YouShe sits in her room,
Silently rocking herself in the corner of two walls.
' Where were you when I needed you the most?'
She grabs her beloved knife,
The one her father gave her.
She flips out the smaller blade,
And slowly runs it accross her hips.
Blood drips down from the cuts,
staining her sky blue shorts.
She moves on from her hips, down to her theighs,
the blood runs faster this time.
When she is through slicing her theighs,
she goes to her wrists.
She drags the knife slowly accross her left wrist,
letting blood flow from all of the cuts on her body.
she begins to feel weaker,
like the energy is flowing out with the blood.
As she makes her way to her bed,
she doesn't stop running the knife though her skin.
She lays down and grabs her teddy bear,
Letting him soak up the tears.
She whispers her last words into his ears,
Why couldn't they see that I needed them?'
As she lets the pain silently lull her to sleep,
she can't help thinking,
Why did no one not