The first time her wrists bled was the first time she felt loneliness.
The cuts drowned out the old pain and distracted her towards the new pain.
Her desperate cries for help were avoided.
She confided in her friends.
The only ones who offered her help were in trouble themselves.
The others ignored her, which caused more marks.
Nobody trusted her, no one wanted her,
Nobody heard her, no one understood her.
She was alone and afraid and the emptiness seemed to last forever.
As her clod fingers weakly held the glass and cut the veins,
she watched bright crimson drench her anorexic body.
She cried her last smile, and grinned her last tears.
She was a mess, and she knew it.
She needed help, but she didn't receive it.
So now she must surrender to the blessed gift of blis
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