Angry

Angry

A child to the rest of the world, but to her parents she was a counselor, financial advisor, mediator, messenger

Nobody noticed that she wasn’t okay, though the self-inflicted wounds that littered her arms should have made it clear

Grabbing on to anything that took away the pain, she numbed herself with whatever she could get her hands on

Reaching out to a world that turned away in disgust, she hid herself behind anger and violence, black clothing for a black heart

Young in mind but aging quickly, for a child would have broken under the pain and hopelessness that consumed her

Check out the sequel, "Invalid Item"