She is broken...

Cold.

But she doesn't care anymore.

They can't break her, and that's all that matters.

The only one that can break her is herself.

And she times her actions just right,

So they cannot catch her doing any sort of wrong.

Supposed wrong.

Innocence met by threat.

Their foot-steps echo along the halls.

Their screeches shudder her frozen blood.

She hears what they say about her.

And it's all lies. And they believe.

And part of rages inside,

but the other is not sure how to express it.

she strikes the wall with her fist.

her knuckles are raw with blood,

enveloped in scarlet cracks and bleeding rivers.

she with-holds the sting, the quiver.

New skin will heal.

she doesn't quite know what to say when she meets him, his skeptic eyes.

but she knows he's against her.

and she isn't going to sink into asking him for a hug.

Her eyes are already weak.

she digs in her bearings, the torn skin.

and the warmth drizzles

her eyes are screaming.

a vicious glint.

he's seen better.

she isn't like this.

she isn't hardcore.

…

she just feels like switching.

her fist falls, staining the wall.

lacking, the will.

still hanging on.

numb with frost and

deaden.

ing.

her senses.

muscles ache.

her eyes tear from him.

she clenches.

weakness. it's.

not alive within her.

it's dead.

part of her is.

she doesn't want it to be like this.

and has a feeling

neither does he.

he cares.

for once.

she doesn't believe this. it's lies.

...

she doesn't have to ask for a hug because he gives it to her.

or at least she thinks he would

he doesn't.

selfish. she is.

and he's just a bystander to this.

she has to defend him every day.

against the pursuit of-

deceit. . Narcissism.

the assumptions of others.

and she

cannot be ...

strong any longer.

it's pointless. useless. stupid.

he doesn't appreciate this.

he leaves.

she looks up from the tremors in parquet and

he's gone.

it takes her a moment to realize this, appreciate the dignity (if at any) he's saved her. Lost.

he guards her.

in some ways.

from being too guarded herself. Too centered on

all the things wrong with life.

all the things

wrong with her.

There must be

something.

She can do. to fix this.

maybe.

dismissive.

maybe is a hopeful word. fool.

there is no HOPE.

She is

Just wasted space. Unwanted here. by some.

The clots are

a way to healing.

To coagulate the hurt,

to stop the aching cries, the crimson lies.

dodge the bullet

the seeping, oozing, thickening sickness.

she feeds herself.

skip the charades.

pointless.

sself-destructive.

sanguine, hard-fought.

It's all a realization. of what things are.

how they should be.

how she gains control and binds and writhes from her eyes.

I cried while writing this. :x

I think, or maybe it was a different one. ~

But in the end, coming back to finish it after a bit... I realized I had to pick myself up from the dirt, brush it off and move on.

It didn't hurt any less that way, but was sort of revelational...