Sitting On My Wrist

I feel defeated,

beaten down to my last straw.

I get flashbacks,

of all the bad things I saw.

The world hurt me,

so I hurt a girl.

A girl who was once happy,

now her whole life is an endless blur.

I look at her,

sitting on my wrist.

The tears flow down my face,

I didn't want to exist.

It's an awful cycle,

the little whirl pool she is stuck in now.

Stuck wishing people knew,

but wanting concerns to stay down.

Shes tired,

but cannot sleep.

She just lays in her bed,

pretending to count sheep.

She's quietly and slowly,

going insane.

Learning to do it in secret,

so no one else has to deal with her pain.