Angry red lines
Crisscross like train tracks
Traversing her arms
Ragged and slender
Transferring the point
To the skin


Delicately brutal
Blades made of
Chrome and steel
Biting her flesh
Tearing the skin
To release the pain
And make it relief
Over and over


Trickles of red
Covered by Band aids
And long sleeves and
Makeup
And lies and explanations
That you can still
See through
But pretend that you don’t


Mutual guilt
Muffled by normalcy
With hands over your eyes
Yet
Opened a crack
To watch the cheery mask
That vanishes
When she thinks she’s
Alone.