Everyday she went to school and they would call her a slut, that day she couldn't help it so she started to cut, she relied it thought it would take her pain away but she knew deep down inside that it was a game she didn't wanna play. They called her names the next day like ugly and fat she didn't understand why she looked down at her stomach and her stomach was flat. They started calling her that more and more so she started to believe it that night at the dinner table she ate bit by bit. After she went up to the bathroom, bent over and started to purge thought to herself i get on everyone's nerves. Later on just as she thought was alright her mom and dad started to fight it made her more sad inside she cut again and just needed to hide smiled all day, at night she would cry on really lonely nights she wished she could die. It's so easy all i need is a rope something to hang on and by then i choked, i'll be gone, it'll be over no more lies and maybe then everyone would realise i'm more than what i showed, i'm bigger than my emotion, my scars meant so little and my brain was my potion, i tried more than you think, i thought with every blink and i also depended on you to not let me sink. Sadly i was mistaken, i was misunderstood everyone thought i couldn't, i thought i could but now it's over there's nothing left to say if you loved me why'd you let me go did you love me? At Least that's what i thought so. I wish you cared more about my feeling and less if my scars were healing look at me just take a little peek let me show you let me speak. Remember that happy 5 year old i used to be she's gone can't you see. Now i feel dead, dead instead the only way i feel alive is if i bleed you might call it greed but i call it my happiness, my drug, my new to be life revolves around razors, blades, and a knife. Pills, sweaters, and matches look at my heart its filled with patches, patches of negative thoughts negative feelings negative emotion, begging you to look to hear me out to know i'm not happy and filled with doubt. Will it get better? Will it get worse? Will i be able to break this curse? Help me. Never leave. Ill stop, ill pull down my long sleeves i'll change i wanna get better if this was your daughter wouldn't you let her?
BY: samira bitar

Everyday she went to school and they would call her a slut, that day she couldn't help it so she started to cut, she relied it thought it would take her pain away but she knew deep down inside that it was a game she didn't wanna play. They called her names the next day like ugly and fat she didn't understand why she looked down at her stomach and her stomach was flat. They started calling her that more and more so she started to believe it that night at the dinner table she ate bit by bit. After she went up to the bathroom, bent over and started to purge thought to herself i get on everyone's nerves. Later on just as she thought was alright her mom and dad started to fight it made her more sad inside she cut again and just needed to hide smiled all day, at night she would cry on really lonely nights she wished she could die. It's so easy all i need is a rope something to hang on and by then i choked, i'll be gone, it'll be over no more lies and maybe then everyone would realise i'm more than what i showed, i'm bigger than my emotion, my scars meant so little and my brain was my potion, i tried more than you think, i thought with every blink and i also depended on you to not let me sink. Sadly i was mistaken, i was misunderstood everyone thought i couldn't, i thought i could but now it's over there's nothing left to say if you loved me why'd you let me go did you love me? At Least that's what i thought so. I wish you cared more about my feeling and less if my scars were healing look at me just take a little peek let me show you let me speak. Remember that happy 5 year old i used to be she's gone can't you see. Now i feel dead, dead instead the only way i feel alive is if i bleed you might call it greed but i call it my happiness, my drug, my new to be life revolves around razors, blades, and a knife. Pills, sweaters, and matches look at my heart its filled with patches, patches of negative thoughts negative feelings negative emotion, begging you to look to hear me out to know i'm not happy and filled with doubt. Will it get better? Will it get worse? Will i be able to break this curse? Help me. Never leave. Ill stop, ill pull down my long sleeves i'll change i wanna get better if this was your daughter wouldn't you let her?
BY: samira bitar