There's that girl,
The one who never smiles.
The one who fakes her emotions under a mask.
The girl with the bracelets.
The one who hides the marks she's made.
She takes her razor blade,
Dragging it, making a thin red line on her wrist.
Crying as a small stream of red liquid drips to the floor.
Tears mixed with blood hit the porcelin sink,
Creating a small trail as it slides to the drain.
She says this is the last time,
But we all know that it's another lie.
Another lie to hide behind her mask.