Drag

Drag

Little incisions randomly placed on my pale skin, 
No blood is drawn. Yet the pain is enough to please me
With its depth.

The screams and the crys erupt from my Mother,
Always directed at me. Yet I have not shed a single tear in five years. I yell back, vulgar bites hidden in my breath. 

Is this the way a Mother and Daughter are supposed to 
Act? Or are we 'dysfunctional', like so many others?

I hide behind a mask of bliss, never a touch of greif 
slipping through. No one notices.
Am I that good of an actor? Or are they naive to the
Real world?

These drag marks, deeper each day. With each slice,
Blood pools at the point. 

These meds don't work. I still feel like I'm worthless, 
Like I'm not wanted. 
I feel as if the world would be a better place with out me.
The sad thing is - I know I'm right.

What's even worse,
This is true.