"My stomach hurts"
She whispered
As she continued to swallow razorblades.
The sharp shards in her throat
Made her feel alive
Seeing the blood
She felt alive
The taste
Screamed life.

She had become so numb.

She laughed
And winced in pain.
She was deffinitly alive.

She longed for relief.
Relief?
Relief from what?
What ailed her?
She was unsure,
And unchanged.

She couldn't steady her hands
As she dug through the rubble of her life.
She tossed aside
The things
That made her who she is.
Pillow fights and bestfriends.
Love and loss,
Joy and sorrow.

She found pieces of
Her childhood.
What should have been careless
Had been full of
Worry and fear,
Molestation, and alcoholism.

Beneath it all,
More sharp metal.
Each piece mocked her.
And the air just laughed.
Everything laughed.
She began to laugh.

Winced in pain again.

The edges
Poking at her belly.
The pain seemed to double
Every
Moment.

"My throat hurts"
She tried desperatly to whisper.
Completely inaudible.
Only understood
By reading her lips,
Stained scarlet.

"My life hurts"
She scrawled onto
A crumpled sheet
Of faded paper.
The ink just wouldn't dry
And ran down the page.

Her stomach became full.
Not another shard
Could find room.

She walked outside
And stared into the sky
And bled.
She just stood
And bled for hours.
She bled forever
She had always loved to bleed.

How strange it seemed
But in those moments
That she was dying,
She had never
Felt more alive.