Her.

The pain inside her grows,
every day, every hour, every minute.
She can't hold on much longer,
she needs to feel the relief.

Every waking moment she trys,
to not stare too long at knives.
The dreams she has of dying,
are the best she's ever had.

She hasn't cut in ages,
but the need is growing more.
She hides her emotions,
so no one thinks she's alone.

Her smiles hide the tears,
that will come when no ones near.
Her laugh hides the loneliness,
that she always feels inside.

She hates the thought of death,
but it makes her feel alive.
When all alone at night,
her thoughts keep her awake.

Wishing things could change,
she never makes the stand.
Hoping for new things,
that never really came.

She's trying so hard,
but lifes not that easy.
She's pushing her way out,
so she can find her freedom.

The cuts before left scars,
barely noticable, thank god.
The tears never did leave marks,
for if they did, her face'd be covered.

Hiding from the truth,
by the many faces she does wear.
Covering up with lies,
so no one questions her.