My original
poem..
She picks up
the blade, and the tears stream down.
The smile she had? It was painted on like a
clown's.
She takes the blade and drags it across her wrist.
It's the only thing that makes her feel like she
exists.
She wants to forget about the day.
She just wants everything to be okay.
She's sick of the drama and tired of the lies.
Deep down inside, she wishes to die.
She hopes for joy and prays for peace, but most of all,
she wants someone to see the pain undernearth.