She

She hates herself because she hates herself
And gardens her own grave
A picture of perfection
Apathetic evermore
Panning anorexia and masochistic dispositions
She can’t hear anything anymore
Feels no good to no one
She’s covered in white light and guilt
She can’t understand
Tears are trapped behind her eyes
It’s the only thing you could possibly see
Something cracked
Now no one could hold what’s left
She’s a piece of typical tragedy
Hiding under a virginal façade
Hoping no one will see her real face
She’s always cold
Always cold
She’s losing mind and mass
Can’t cry
Drowning in darkness
She feels naked – does she not hurt herself?
She feels unclean – does she not bleed?
It’ll all end soon enough.
Yes -
This is her front page
Maybe, just maybe, she’ll continue living -
Just to save her soul