Switchblade tendencies

She's standing in the hallway, its dark and she's alone. Wrapped up in constant fear of being on her own.
The switchblade tendencies clouding up her mind, ripping away at the uncertainties of her life. When will this all end, even she doesn't know, forever in silence, walking alone.
She's standing in the bedroom, dimmed by a single light. Facing a mirror, she catches fright.
For what is in the mirror, she hates to see. A little lost girl unable to flee.
The scars and cuts run up her arms, twisting like poisoness snakes. Never fading and always there, this little girl is unable to wake.
Will she find her freedom? Nobody knows, and nethier does she. This doomed little girl not able to see. This doomed little girl unable to flee.