Isabelle's Poetry Journal (a continuation of Homesick Angel)

Covers

A slice on my arm

My wrist

That's all I need

One slice

Three

I can't stop

Won't stop

Until this all disappears

No one knows how I feel

Not even those I call my best friends

They can't see past my stupid smiley faces and my masks

I never realized how easy it was to lie in a text

Put some fake happiness into my words

And instantly it appears I'm fine

They can't see otherwise

They can't see the tears flowing out of my eyes

They can't see my arms bleeding blood

They can't see anything at all

And maybe I shouldn't care

As I smile in my texts

And feel absolutely alone

Because if I tell you what I'm feeling

You will go

So five cuts

Eight

Nineteen

Who cares

No one would notice anyways

Not even those I hold dear

Oops my hand slips

And I cut a little too deep

And the cut just continues to bleed

As a deep red pours out of my wrist

I smile

Just like those stupid faces from my messages

Ha well at least I wasn't lying in the end

I say goodbye

And you think I mean goodnight

But what you don't understand is that tomorrow you'll receive no good morning text

Hell, tomorrow I'll be fucking dead

So "Byes"

I tell you all

And I love you

Though in the end

I hold my arm over the tub

And bandage it with a sigh

Not brave enough to end my life

One day though

One day soon

I won't have enough energy to put a bandage on it

And I'll quit

And you'll be texting a ghost

Though to be honest,

I was a ghost

long before I ever killed myself.