The scared little gurl looks at the knife.She wonders what’s worth the effort to surviveShe thinks about friends and family,She thinks about the people who just don’t care.She looks at the knife.She thinks about all the horrible moments,And the few good ones that have happened in her life.She thinks how easy it is to use the knife on her self.She hopes it won’t hurt too much,As she lifts the knife up.She hopes her few friends won’t cry.She wants to tell someone how she feels,But she’s afraid they just won’t get why.She wishes her friends were really her friends.She wishes someone would just hold her.She just needs a shoulder to cry on.Just one person to lean on.Her friends just think she’s a morbid bitch.She wants to tell them how she feels,But they just say get over it and move on.She looks at the knife, And draws it across her wrists.She looks down at all the blood,Wondering how long it will take.She watches the blood drip to the floor.She knows it will make a mess,And stain the floor.She hopes her mom will understand.And as she takes her last breath.She whispers to her self-goodbye.