Her

The darkness consumes her;
there's no way out.
Except for one temporary escape,
of which you may not approve.
One which has become beautified in society.
Sick minds turning it into something to be proud of,
something to brag about,
but not for her. No.
She cannot let anyone see,
so she wears hoodie and jeans when it's 30°C.
And she wears that smile you so easily believe
all to cover up any sign that she's not alright.
Because she cannot let anyone see
the marks that it will leave.
When she's alone at night,
with no-one to comfort her and make her feel worth,
she turns to her best friend.
He sits on her bedside table, waiting for her to come crawling back.
So with the world crushing down on her,
and her friends not having the time to help,
she picks up her best friend and paints a masterpiece.
But the canvas is her skin and the paint runs red.
Staining her bed sheets, leaving her numb.
Numb from the bullies and from her parents arguments.
Numb from always being a second best.
Numb from never feeling good enough.
So she takes one last breath before she sets herself free;
but did you guess, that this girl is me?