Bleeding to survive

She sits and stares at plenty lil concoctions.
Pills liquor razors,
her options.
Her burdens the world can’t lift.
Her life must be a prank.
It’s no gift.

Her anger it screams.
You’re already broken.
This is your life.
No dream.
If you do it now your pain will end.
Life is too much,
impossible to win.
Never mind the disparage.
Or how you want kids,
a marriage.
You’ll never find love in another.
People don’t posses it.
You’ll end up hurt,
you’ll regret it.
Anger questions what she doesn’t get.
In her life,
happiness doesn’t fit.
Suffering will follow her.
Nothing can be fixed.

She looks at her life and how its been.
What she feels now,
she felt then.
She cuts deep to ensure a mark.
Shout out to her pain
shout out to her heart.
She knows she’s not ready to die,
but no longer wants to feel.
She does it to ease her anger.
Not to kill.
So she drinks a lil liquor,
pops a pill.

She cuts in places that’ll keep her alive.
It’s her way to cope.
A way to survive.
The more she cuts,
her anger it fades.
The more she bleeds.
Her life,
she saves.

She cuts until she feels it.
Until anger is no longer alive,
she kills it.
She locks away her concoctions.
She seals it.