AM I PRETTY ENOUGH NOW?

A girl seated in the back,
Eyes attached to a certain head.
A boy that held her heart,
She was obsessed, everyone said.

She watched him everyday,
Him oblivious to her actions.
Yet everyone knew,
How strong was her attraction.

One day she found the courage
To walk up to him and speak.
In a very poetic way,
She uttered, "You are who I seek."

He looked at her confused,
Before he understood.
"You're ugly, I don't like you.
Whatever told you I would?”

The words struck through her
Sharper than any knife.
“I have a girlfriend,” he spoke again,
“She’s my entire life.”

“Who?” the girl asked meekly.
Who was she to become?
Another girl walked up and hugged him,
His head held in her bosom.

“I am,” the girl replied,
And the meek girl knew.
Melinna, was the girlfriend’s name,
The sluttiest girl in school.

The girl could only stutter,
Tears leaping to her eyes.
She told herself he could like her,
Even if it were a blatant lie.

She couldn’t face the couple.
Turning around and running away,
She tried to vision happiness,
With everything all cheery and gay.

However, she seemed to be doomed,
And soon, she felt the tears.
They rolled down her cheeks,
And she ran from her fears.

“He would only like me,” she said,
“If I were like her.”
She wasn’t sure of her decision.
Was he really of that much worth?

Then, as she entered the bathroom,
Tears streaking her face.
She looked in the mirror,
"Am I such a disgrace?”

She checked under the stalls,
Making sure no one was near.
She heard the bell ring,
Loud enough to hear.

“I’m late,” she noted,
But didn’t care.
She rolled up her long sleeves;
A sight that was rare.

Marks adorned her skin,
Overlapping with each other.
And she just stared at them,
One right after another.

Tears kept falling
As she unzipped her backpack.
She pulled out an object,
Nothing of which it lacked.

It had a black, rubber handle
And a long, silver blade.
She turned it in her hands,
Catching a glint of jade.

After scrutinizing,
She placed it to her wrist.
Setting to work,
Her arm and the blade kissed.

She made sixty cuts.
Deep, oh so very deep.
She counted every swipe
As they began to bleed.

Smiling proudly to herself,
She stared at her design.
Blood left the wound
As a deep a red as wine.

Taking some more things
From her bag, she grinned.
She lied them on the sink,
Over herself, she did not win.

She picked up a stick,
Eyeliner it was.
She circled her eyes with it,
Made them look bolder, it does.

Next was eye-shadow,
To eyebrows it covered.
Then mascara-coated lashes,
Upward, they curved.

Lips took on lipstick,
Lipgloss a second layer.
She puckered them together,
Looking sluttish would be favored.

After which, she dumped her jacket,
Took her button-down shirt,
And undid it to her bra line.
Stylish, like a flirt.

She stared at the mirror.
Something wasn’t right.
She glanced down to her long skirt,
Taking it in her hands, tight.

She tore it twice,
Once on either side.
The rip went to her bottom pannie line,
And she said, “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

She took off her sneaker shoes.
Socks were thrown away.
She put everything in her bag.
But her blade was left to stay.

She looked at her arm again,
Lifting her knife slowly.
She deepened the cuts,
Feeling very low and lonely.

She didn’t think
She had been there long,
But the lunch bell sounded,
Like a church bell’s DONG!

She walked out of the restroom,
Earning many stares.
But she ignored them,
Caught up in her own affairs.

She saw him walking,
Arm around Melinna’s waist.
They both stopped when they saw her.
Oh, what a look on his face.

Melinna looked disgusted,
But the girl didn’t care.
The boy was what mattered.
Was this even fair?

His eyes were drawn
To her arm blanketed in blood.
She looked so whore-ish,
Not like a pretty flower bud.

Her face was growing paler,
Even with all the make-up.
She fell to the floor, drifting
To a sleep where she couldn’t wake up.

On her deathbed, with her last breath
She could muster, how?
She spoke the words carved into her arm,
“ ‘AM I PRETTY ENOUGH NOW?’ ”

Hope you liked it. Review, please. :D