friend

by: silence isn't always golden

---

("hello my little friend.")

she says that dejectfully as she enters the dark room

only light being the dim lamp light.

the ceiling fan barely seen by the dark hums quietly

and blows out the warm air from the outside.

she shuts the door, looking at the empty darkness surrounding her.

she tugs at her jet black bracelet on her pale wrist.

the smile on her face is crooked and she is struggling to keep it

she slowly walks from the door towards the dresser drawer and glances at the mirror

who does she see?

a sad face with rings under her eyes and tear stains from the night before

she sees a child that used to be pure and innocent, now broken

if not on the outside then on the inside

she looks down at her friend--

a long silver razor

("hello my little friend.")

she says once again.

the friends looks back at her and she slowly picks up her friend on her wrist

and the friend does what she asks in her mind

it cuts her.

she begins to smell rust and salt.

(see rose red and pitch black.)

it makes her feel calm about herself.

("it doesn't hurt." she say. "it doesn't hurt.")

---

author's note: this poem was written in May in my notebook just after a test, with revisions done to it in June.I never ever cut myself(on purpose) in my life but I was very lonely and depressed and wrote this poem.