Pink

Pink is a pretty color.
A pretty color indeed.
Except when its the color of the water in the sink.
Pink is the color of red when added with white.
Red is the color of the blood dripping in the sink
that mixes with water and suddenly turns it pink.
The blood spills down from her wrist.
The blood gives off a smell that makes her stomach twist.
Where does the blood come from you might ask?
It comes from the voices in her past.
From there it seeps out of fresh cuts.
Cuts that she made when her life was in a rut.
They come from the blade she drags across her skin,
but she covers them with a hoodie
so that she'll blend in.
Because if they see the cuts that decorate her skin,
they'll torment her until she falls, and they win.
She'll cry and plead, but they won't listen.
They like it when they see her tears glisten,
but right now she won't think of that.
She'll think of the pain that makes her body relax
. The pain is short. It only prickles
but is worth the relief that makes her giggle.
The pain in her heart is 10 times worse
than the pain that comes with the blade
being drug across her skin in vain.
What she doesn't know will not hurt her. One cut too deep and death will be her new lure.
She'll fall into its arms
never to be seen again.
She will then be very glad.
She just doesn't know it will make everyone else very sad.
All she'll know is the joy in her heart.
She won't remember her depart,
but those are thoughts for another day.
For now she'll just enjoy this pain.
-Hannah Sickles