How did I become the girl,
That's always trusted,
But not truly known?

No one knows about the scars,
About the blood I've washed away.
Countless times I've found,
A blade in my hand.

How can no one see,
Behind this smiling mask of mine?

Eyes are supposed to be windows,
Books to the souls others can read.
Are my blue eyes,
No longer readable?

How did I become the girl,
Who can smile so easily,
Even as she's dying inside?

Schools don't teach us,
How to cope with our feelings.
They don't teach us the signs,
Don't care unless it's on a test.

In society today,
People wearing long sleeves,
Hiding those secret scars,
Are romanticized as amazing.

A smile or laugh can be faked,
Happiness shown for society's sake.
Long sleeves and pants,
Hide the real score.

But when did I become the girl,
With a fake mask?

How did the blade,
Become to seem so essential?
It's always there for me,
No matter how much it's ignored.

Now my favorite color is red,
The color that seeps from these cuts.
Scars now on my body,
That tell such a sad story.

How did I become the girl,
With everything,
But feel so empty?

~~~~~~~

This is a poem for self-harm and suicide awareness. There's seriously people around you everyday that are hiding their pain... Try to bring a smile to more people's faces.