Mary had a razor blade.
Her cuts were red as rose,
and everywhere the razor traced,
the red was sure to show.
She kept her wounds a secret,
under sweaters that she wore.
Each time a little deeper in,
til' the trickles made the floor.
Mary cracked a smile, when
she finally made it through.
She dropped the razor blade,
and her lips turned baby blue.
they kept her death a secret
after finding in her room
Mary's many warning signs
though her parents never knew