Her words cut like the razor blades she'd dig into her own skin.
I couldn't tell you why she did it.
Weather she was trying to bleed out the sadness,
or if she was trying to remember how to feel something.
She wears those scars forever now.
She covers them with tattoos and tugged down sleeves.
All I fear is that she'll bust open a razor again.
Going deeper, too deep to stop.
Because she didn't realize that
When she bled out she wasn't just
bleeding out all of that plaguing sadness,
she bled out the rest of her too.