PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

She always hid behind her mask,

So no one ever stopped to ask;

"Why do you have those cuts on your arm?,

Why would you ever use self-harm?"

On her face was a painted grin,

So nobody ever suspected such a sin.

She covered her cuts with bracelets and sleeves,

Until the angry marks would leave.

This is her only obsession,

Along with suicidal depression.

Joy has now become a crime,

While razors have become sublime.

She covers her body with self-destruction,

To hide her sick self-creation.