Dark red crimson rivers of her being's blood
Another scar to show the hardships of her imperfection
Failures corrected by a knife pressed to her milky white skin
Emotional pain blended in with the physical
A temporary solution to despair.

The gasps of pain and the surge of tears echoing through the bathroom stall
Standing petrified as she draws the broken shard across her delicate wrist
Dying to help, to stop her self mutilation, but unable to move at all
Begging her to stop her self inflicted pain, but hearing your words hit her
invisible barrier
Desperate thoughts flashing through your panicked brain, warning her of
taking action
A moment of hesitation
You dash down the hall, pouring the situation to the closest school nurse.

Pleading, threatening her to come out and talk to them about what troubles
Your shaking voice the only one she truly hears through her pain and tears
You follow her out, horrified with the notion of what she could have done
Not knowing and not wanting to know how badly the cut could be
Watching the placid, dead look within her once twinkling eyes
Wondering what troubles such a kind hearted soul.

Forced to let the "professionals" handle your best friend
You leave knowing in your heart you did the right thing, but still doubting
your decision
Hot tears streaming down your face as you try not to contemplate the
severity of the situation
So desperate to know what could have caused her such unbearable emotional
Calling upon others in hopes that they may know more than you, but knowing
they know nothing
Shaken by the sounds you heard through the bathroom stall
A sound you heard just once before.

Blaming yourself for her hurt and pain, claiming you could have prevented
her from cutting
Your heart breaking into bloodied, sparkling shards when you realize the
limits of your help
Frustrated that you can't do more to assist your troubled friend
Trying to help her and comfort your other friends as well wears you to the
Why must such gentle souls fall into such sorrow and despair?
Why must friends be so restricted in their abilities to help?
Why must blood and pain always be the answer?
Why must we blind ourselves by emotional turmoil?