She thinks that maybe if she cuts and digs down just a little bit deeper, she might find her true self.
Because the skin she has unwillingly been put in feels as though it belongs to somebody else.
Or maybe that's exactly what she wants, to be a different girl all together?
If she keeps on cutting, the blade will free her soul and she'll float away in the wind like a beautiful feather.
All of these theories and ideas seem to easily pop into her mind.
But this only happens when on her wrist, she sees a bloody line.
Her best friend will always support her choices no matter how much she might disapprove.
She feels helpless as she stands by and just lets it happen, but she doesn't know what else she can do.
As her blood stains her body that seems so full of hatred and doubt, her whole world crashes down and unfurls.
Her stinging tears begin to fall down on to her face, and land on her newly dyed black curls.
Her head suddenly goes blank and she passes out, due to all the blood she has lost.
Finally she regains consciousness, her wrist has healed crisscrossed.
The thoughts she tried to keep at bay now rush back to her all at once.
No matter how hard she tries, she can never escape the screaming silence.
Pools of colour, red and black, is what she sees when she looks around.
This horror scene that she has created is like her own sick little playground.
When will just a little more, just a bit deeper, ever be too much?
She holds a blade in her hand, and she relies on it like a crutch.