Who is she?

Her perfect pale skin, her hair swinging freely in the air when she walks.



All eyes locked on her. "She must be new". they think. "She looks so perfect" they whisper.








I stare right at her, that smile she tries to keep on her face fades away.

She stands in front of the mirror looking back at her life, all these flashbacks haunt me now.





All that make up inst enough to hide her scars.




The lipstick she wears makes her lips look so perfectly fluffy, almost like a red cloud.





She hides in the bathroom and cries but no one ever notices.

She's all darkness, she's all pain.




Her broken heart pumps hate throughout her body.

She picks up a razor, her sharp new escape.





Sliding it slowly scross her arms, she cracks a smile.





During the night she talks to herself and prays to god that life gets better.

I can see her scars, i can feel her pain and her soul leaking out of her veins.