• Alone in the darkness of their room.
    Shut-away in the corner.
    The blade of a razor gleams in the moonbeam.
    They reach towards it.
    Blade in hand.
    One swift swipe across the wrist.
    Another.
    Then another.
    They wake up everyday.
    Go on, lurk in the shadows.
    Then they go home,
    sit in the dark corner of their room.
    And do it all again.
    A month later,
    they look at their wrists,
    and think, "why?"
    They see pink scars.
    and remember.
    Its for the one you love.