• She writes the words on her arms
    The thoughts on her skin
    With a knife as her pencil
    Her lips are silent

    And a crimson red ink
    That stains in the heart
    With outreaching hands
    She ignores without doubt

    Her problems are hers
    But the confusion is pain
    She screams to be heard
    And is taken insane

    She’s not willing to die
    Though others may say
    She’s friends with the reaper
    And is leading her way

    But she just wants to say loud
    All her problems and thoughts
    Hoping someone will listen
    Though probably not

    With the rejection so dull
    Her eyes done a mist
    She lifts up her arms
    Not making a fist

    She’s accepted her path
    She’s lost all her hope
    She gets up to roof
    And is tying her rope

    But just as the hands
    Shake up to a start
    The ceiling breaks down
    And opens her heart