The Girl
Silently
crying, she sits on the floor
Thinking of all she's become
Of all she's
done to herself
Blood on the floor, on her arms
She knows if she could
just press
Just a little bit harder...
Could she really take it that
far?
Fall so deep?
She picks up the battered picture frame
And stares
into the face
She once knew so well.
Her own.
She'd quit looking in the
mirror years ago
She didn't see how dark her eyes were
How hollow
How
pale her skin had become
She didn't see her own body
Once so plump and
full of life
Now simply skin and bones
Sharp knives in the sides of all
who knew her
She was slowly dying from the inside out
But she couldn't
see, she couldn't see
What you saw when you looked into those eyes
She
thinks back on her life
On all the mistakes she's made
What's one
more?
One tiny little cut. It would be over.
Who would notice, who
would even care?
She looks one more time
At the picture in the
frame
And she's made her decision.
October 29,
2002
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