Vent Quote #5064262
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The tears fall slowly down her face, washing the make up away


  The tears fall slowly down her face, washing the make up away as she sit as her bed staring at the wall. Reaching for the scissors. Griping it tightly in her small hand, nuckles white. She knows it's wrong. Despite what right she opens up the scissors. glids it smoothly across her fair skin. Repeat, repeat, repeat. It turns red, blood fills the cuts.
Tears are falling faster. She sniffs. She wonders, why me? She wonders what's wrong with her. Why people don't like her. Why do people pierce her heart with sharp, painful words?
Gently, she tucks the weapon back under her pillow. She stares are her arm. Traces her fingers along the scars, and the new cuts. Looking up, she pulls down her sleaves, wipes her face clean of tears, puts a smile on her face, and goes out.
She's strong. The definition of strong.

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madsoftball4Iamnotacatholic_IfYouOnlyKnew_

Together4ever

posted February 4, 2012 at 9:11pm UTC tagged with vent

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