she's the girl who loves dropping her mother’s fine porcelain
just to hear and see it s h a t t e r into a billion pieces,
comforting herself with the knowledge that her heart is only a million pieces and one
carefully tread around her:
don’t get cut by the jaggedness of her breathing and mind

(let’s call her madeline)
she’s such a sweet conniving girl
and she’s drowning prettily from all her (hidden) faults
but i’m getting tired of rescuing her overandover again,
so the next time she decides to put a knife to her veins
(and wait for me to scream at her to stop),
I’ll hand her a band-aid instead
and welcome her to suicide