Cutting

I once had a friend who lived in despair,
Though she was beautiful, young, and so fair.
She lived each day without hope in her life
And scarred her skin with the point of a knife

I loved her so much, yet she did not know.
So from her wrists the blood did flow.
Until one day she tried to leave;
Her friends and family faced so much grief.

They found her one day; I don't know where.
They took her again in love and care,
But put her away in a hospital ward
To keep her from herself, to hurt no more.

She was to get out; she was doing much better.
I was so excited; I could never forget her.
Until one day she made a mistake;
A razor again to her skin she did take.

Her sister found the marks of the knife;
They put her away this time for life.
I may never see her in this life again,
But will never forget who caused my pain.

For Ariana, the one
of whom this poem
was written.