• The blood runs down her arm,
    She puts on her black jacket,
    Yet another bloodstain on the inside of the sleeve,
    No. She's not depressed.

    Everyday she cuts herself,
    But only to feel pain,
    She never cuts,
    Enough to die.

    You see, one day she hopes to be free,
    One day she can be happy again.
    But until then,
    She'll just go through the motions.

    Painted smile on her face,
    Unshown tears,
    Never smeared makeup,
    Yes. Everyone wants to be her.

    Everyday she goes home,
    And gets her knife,
    And adds to the growing number,
    Of marks on her wrist.

    Everyday she looks in the mirror,
    And she reminded of how much she hates herself,
    Of how ugly she is inside,
    And her perfect makeup runs.

    Her mother comes home,
    The girl fixes her makeup,
    Puts on a jacket,
    And comes to cheerfully greet her mother.

    Her mother asked how school was,
    The girl's reply was positive,
    Her painted smile back on her face,
    Not a single hair out of place.

    She doesn't know what's wrong,
    She doesn't know why,
    She doesn't know the cause,
    Of the pain she feels inside.

    The next day at school,
    A friend waves at her in the hall,
    A dim bell rings,
    That that was once her friend.

    That girl was the friend,
    She shared so many laughs with.
    That girl is now,
    One more person who doesn't know.

    She never lets her gaurd down,
    Never lets anyone see,
    She never opens up,
    Never lets anyone know, of the pain she feels inside.

    Day by day,
    She dies more and more.
    Night by night,
    She cries herself to sleep.

    Until one day she just can't take it anymore.
    She hold the loaded gun up to her head,
    And pulls the trigger.
    It's all over,
    Was her last thought.