Until it Bleeds

The pain inside her throbs and grows:
A pulsing, beating heart.
Her life is seeming like a cell,
Her mind just falls apart.

A burning flame of hate appears
And smoulders in her heart.
With welling eyes, her hope just dies;
Her life just fell apart.

Laying in her room, alone,
She fears her love is dead.
With stinging eyes, she cries and cries,
Her heart is filled with dread.

For, somewhere deep inside her mind,
She knows just what to do.
With guilty eyes, she barely tries
To think, "This isn't you."

Release from all the pain inside
Is what she really needs.
With lowered eyes, she's not surprised
To feel a need to bleed.

She takes a knife into her hand
And wonders at the blade.
With shaking hands, she understands
This is the way she's made.

She wonders at the power of
The object in her clasp.
With nervous hands, she starts to plan
Just how the cuts should scar.

Decided on a way to show
The world she can't fit in,
With steady blade, she's not afraid
To carve into her skin.

She cutting part is easy;
The stopping isn't so.
With frenzied hand, no longer plan:
The skin no longer shows.

The knife is slipping in her hand
At every single slash.
With searching eyes, she looks and spies
Where skin is not a gash.

Her skin a mess of slices,
Her lap a sea of red,
With dying life, she drops the knife
And wishes she were dead.

For, whilst the pain is banished from
Her being for the day:
The hate attack, it will be back
And so, her need to flay.

Once all the blood is cleaned away,
She glances down and blinks,
On arm she cut, just one word, "Slut".
For this is how she thinks.