Suicidal Poems

Her masterpiece is her story

Her paintbrush is a razor, Her canvas, her wrists, "I deserve the pain." She
shrugs and insists.

One day the brush
will push down, And it will cut so
deep, That this girl will fall into an
eternal sleep.

She doesn't remember
how she started What brought her
interest to this, How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss? No
one would have guessed that she does
it.

No one would have considered this
one. This girl is forever fighting a
battle, that she thinks the demons
have won.

Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs, and if you
look in her old trash, you'll find her
letters of goodbye. Her masterpiece is
quite disturbing, Her masterpiece is a
little gory, Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.

She compares herself to every person, Sheis compared to each girl. She thinks she's hideous, And there's this boy that is her world.

She was bullied and
picked on, She was teased from head
to toe, Hard to believe that her best
friend, was her one and only foe. Then
later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure, and it
was just in due time...

That this girl
couldn't take it anymore She'd
decided she was done living this, So
one day she went home and decided
to end it. Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown, Hard to
believe this girl at school, never ever
wore a frown.

Sometimes she'd just
fall asleep crying, Praying that she'd
be enough, Because she didn't want to
leave her family. She knew about
their sweet love.

This girl found hope
in small things eventually, She soon
would see this beautiful light, and
find a REAL best friend, that helped
her put up a fight. Her masterpiece
soon was leaving, Her artwork was
almost faded, and it gave her a sick
feeling, the feeling of being jaded. She
found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists, And this
boy too had a masterpiece, placed
close to his wrists.

He related to her
and she related to him. She kissed his
artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him, Her
masterpiece now wasn't just her own.
Her masterpiece effected others, Her
artwork wasn't just for herself, She
now had people, who saw her cries
for help.

And then her family found
out, So then they saw the art too, to
them they were just scars, To her they
were the truth. She's trying to be okay
now, She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think to take
away the knives.

A/N: please vote and comment your opinions and if there is any bad spelling thank you