For your poems.
Little girl, broken and bruised.
Carefully pulling off her ruse.
With sweaters and long sleeves it’s no problem to hide.
These feelings she feels so deep inside.
The people around her can’t see the darkness, only the light.
She smiles and laughs just like she should.
But she misses her childhood.
Pigtails and pretty pink bows.
Old oak trees and rainbows.
This little girl, the world is scared to know.
Has come to see that the world is the last place you want to know.
People pushed her right to the edge, now she’s found her small metal friend.
Veins are blue,
Blood is red.