Untitled (For A Reason)

Dear You,

You must not care: I see this clearly. I do not mind, but I would like
you to hear me. My heart is bleeding on this page, my wrist is aching
as I write: My own wrongdoing, full of hate and spite. Yes, "Hate", we
meet again, I have come to confide in you, hide in you: My own sacred
friend. You are the only one whom I can speak with any longer. They
say what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. I wish i was weak, so I
could die: I could just disappear in the blink of an eye. The deafening
silence burns my ears now. It bores a hole into my heart and makes me
ask questions like How? How did such a young, beautiful girl, dash her
hopes, break her dreams? By stumbling across something hidden, unseen.
She screams in the depths of her soul, takes anger out upon her arms,
wishes someone would, could understand, show someone her scars. Yes,
the scars of "Hate". As her eyes register blank, and her soul is empty,
she has no feelings left to express, she realizes she is too late for
redemption. Ah, yes. Sweet "Redemption". An old friend of hers. A friend
long forgotten, along with self-respect: Pursued by hidden tears and
broken whimpers. As she sits here, doubled over, holding the dagger
of her dreams, raking her skin, covering her mouth to hold back the
unnoticed screams. This is the story of a girl. She was young, had
so much hope for the future, but now, she knows it was a lie, as her
arms bled and her tears stung. Stung the face of the angel of death,
sweet release to a high reached by no mortal minds, poked her skin as
she took her one last breath. As this time, she took one too many of
those pills, and lay, slumped over, lifeless, as the blood began to
spill. A pool lay, full of heartache, regret, despair. The remains: a
shell of a girl who "used" to care. This was her dream, her dream all
along. To be put back to a place, where she knew she would belong.
Although her flesh burned and her soul torn from her, she loved to feel
her pain released. No longer part of her. Hell, as they call it,
wasn't so bad. You could bleed and bleed, and everyone was okay, with
the secret addiction you had.

Sincerely.. No, Helplessly,
The Cutter (The Unloved, but always The Lover)