Took a Piece of You

The crimson runs down,
Like a waterfall of blood.
The silver,
Tainted with crimson,
Tainted with tears of sorrow.

What once made her smile,
Now makes her hate herself
She panics every time people
Ask to see her wrist.
She wears bracelet,
Most different sizes and colors.
She wears them,
Not for decoration,
But for secrecy.

Thoughts of what would happen
If someone found out about the scars.
Would they scream at her?
Would they make fun of her?
Even worse, would they ignore her cries?
Just like all the times before?

She wonders,
Will she have to cut that little
Tiny bit deeper to make them realise?
Will she have to die before they believe her?
Will she be gone before they finally see
That she couldve been saved if they just listened?

She wonders,
Will they care when I'm gone?
Will they notice?
Will they cry when they find me?
Will they try to save me?

Most of all,
She asks herself if they
Will still love her
When the silver blade mixes with
The delightful crimson liquid.