She carved out masterpieces

On the canvas of her wrist

And left everlasting ridges

That dripped with painful bliss.

A wired mesh entagled

In tales of misery

Her heart now slowly dangled

On the edge of her melee.

The stealthy drops of sorrow

Left their last trail of warmth

As did the stream of scarlet

Dripping down her freezing palm.

And she closed her eyes bloodshot

Her pain had no one heard

And thus went the girl who thought

There was goodness in the world.