She smiles at every insult,
she laughs at every word.
She's a psycho and a freak
'cause she isn't in their herd.
The Normals, Gangsta's and the Preps,
they taunt, they laugh and tease,
but never know that every night,
her knife gives her release.
The pillow's all that comforts her
the blood is all that's left.
Her mind is scattered, twisted so
and ragged is her breath.
The memories are taunting her
but no-one outside knows
the agony inside her mind
in death's last final throes.
She smiles at every insult
but dies with every word.
Her soul cries out for help
but the pleas still go unheard.

~August 16, 2011~
~ShatteredScribe~