She picked up the razor and grazed at her arm. That was the start of the cycle of her self-harm. Slicing my wrists, carving her thighs, and seeing her skin match how she felt inside. Cutting deeper than ever before, she was frightened yet relieved as blood began to pour. She sat in a corner, drenched red, wondering if somehow she'd be better off dead.
Tears streamed down her pale face,
feeling of simply not belonging in any place. She can’t be a perfect missing puzzle piece, when she would give up this life just to have peace.
Completely full of pain and darkness,
She was reunited with the one thing she misses.
A butterfly flutters in with its wings of hope, it settles on her wrist to help her cope. No more cuts and no more scars,
Just a little butterfly who came from very far. Love adorns its wings, reminding she is never alone.
Able to smile now, she saw how much she'd grown. New-found tears of joy shed from hurting eyes, she, now is happy and now have this savior, the butterfly.
She will protect it now and never let it die,
So that she may return the favor for saving a life.
© Simrans