She couldn’t take the price of beauty.

Popularity became too expensive.

The more she surrounded herself with what she wanted reminded her of how far she


Her smile hid the pain of self-acceptance.

The blades’ cut of pretty portraits of slashes on her stomach reflected that.

God she was starving.

1st slice not too deep

Sweet air hits and it outweighs the thought of love.

Not there. Not now.

Cigarettes and caffeine are an excellent pair that accompany any meal.

Friends ate appetizers as her serving of self-hate was heaping.

Convos of first kisses

Her lips familiar with blood and metal

2nd slice- fresh. a little deeper

Rush of crimson water rivulets look pretty.


Numbness doesn’t welcome it’s embrace.

Salted eyes express her internal.

Her happiness measured in others outlook.

Her mirror is blurry.

3rd cut-

fresh and brand new.

With it the welcome of empty

promises, hopes, goals.

Filled with unreachable, unattainable.

Pain drenched in molasses thick thoughts of pain.


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