she scratches at her flesh, her eyes bleeding red
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I cry tears of blood. My friends rely on my smiles and jokes- they tell me that I'm goofy and think I'm so happy. They don't know I still cry myself to sleep everynight. Why? The only reason I can think of is because I hate myself, and I can't explain why. When I was little I used to lock myself up in my closet and scratch away at my skin. I have scars on my inner thighs where I once took razors to them. I remember the Sunday afternoon. I swallowed pill after pill, hoping that it would numb away the pain. When I woke up in the hospital and saw my mother, I knew I had failed. I still think about it everyday. For awhile I still kept the pills just in case I felt I had to do it again. About a month ago I threw the bottle away because I told myself I would never do it again. That's a lie. I still scratch at my flesh. My eyes still bleed red.
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