Rain runs in icy rivers,

Down the cheeks of a sorrowfull child,

No one seems to accept her,

The lonesome little girl,

All day she sits in the rain,

Salty tears mixing with the water,

Wondering what she had done,

To become an outcast,

Hated by her peers,

Pitied by adults,

Left alone to mourn for the deaths,

Of those whom she cared so much,

Left alone, condemned to hell,

Unsure of where to go,

She turned to the blade in her hand,

Cutting into the tender flesh of her wrists,

Watching as a dark red substance flooded to the surface,

Nobody stopped her,

No one cared enough to try,

Satisfaction filled her as she watched her life bleeding away,

The life of an insignificant child,

She would soon join her loved ones in death,

Be with those who cared about her,

She wouldn't suffer another day filled with hatred and sorrow,

This was it,

Her time had come.

Suddenly soft green eyes peered into hers,

Delicately a pair of hands grasped at the bleeding flesh,

Wrapping the wounds in fabric torn from a shirt,

Caring arms enbraced her,

Surrounding the girl in the other's mysterious scent,

"Why?" She asked, tears in her eyes, "why save the life of one as insignificant as I?"

"You do matter." The stranger replied, "don't do this,

Aor weeks I've watched them taunt you,

And only now am I able to do something to help mend that wound,

Let me mend the wounds,

Let me be your friend."