And No-One Knew She Bled...

This is a poem about the self injury and eventual suicide of a tormented soul...

And so she stood outside of herself
looking in upon herself
and disgusted by what she saw
she aimed to destroy it all
by cutting away pieces of herself
and tucking them away
deep inside the places she was numb

And no-one knew she bled to feel,
to remind herself that she was real
and though she knew it wasn't true
she did her best to pretend for you

And no-one knew she bled 
to drown the voices, the haunting illusions and demons that lived
inside her head

And as time went by more and more
untouched parts of her began to die
as she continued to carve out more
places to hide until there were no
more places left for her to find

And no-one knew she bled 
for relief from the pain, the torment
that had soiled her innocence and
poisoned her brain

And no-one knew she bled
for control, to feel worth and 
anything but afraid

And no-one knew she bled
as she slipped slowly away
further into her darkness
becoming forever lost within 
the shadows of her distorted reality
until the day she took herself 
from the pain, the lies and void of life
finding salvation at the edge of a blade

And before anyone really knew 
her secrets they only knew
it was too late to save her...

Suicide

With truth distorted
in the mirror of 
her illusion
She painted herself dark
and traced red
the hollow outline
of her pain,
buried the bones 
of her broken self
in the lonely bed
of her sin
Slipped slowly
into the cold existence
of a gray salvation
And there
quivering in her
regretted desperation
prayed silently
for a death
that would not 
take her
soon enough...

Regretted Recovery

Razored sorrow
plunged deep
into the flow
of pain
A desperate
plea
to bargain
with death
and lose
Waking 
still
to breath
and dream
in the sterile
white horrors
of recovery...

Etched In Stone

Lost in the fragile frame of herself
identity long forgotten in the struggle
to please, to find herself worthy
of the esteem others held her in,
to be as they had defined her
in a truth not her own
She faded slowly
like the red from a rose
wishing always to return to the reality
of who she was once,
when she could look
and see herself real
But having strayed so far into
the illusion created for her
she would never find her way back
and so became more and more
the stranger, fading until she was
no longer there,
having disappeared altogether
And though great her sacrifice
no-one even missed her at first
until they had a need
and then in their selfishness searched
for the beauty who would be no more
than a memory now, 
a ghost of their making
resting just the shadows
in the peace of her reality
etched in stone...