Pencil Sharpeners

In her room, where shadows linger long, She sits, with scars, her silent song. Each one a tear, a story untold, Etched into flesh, a burden to hold.

Her fingers tremble as they trace the lines, Memories flooding, like darkened mines. Each scar a whisper of pain endured, A silent scream, so deeply obscured.

Alone, she weeps, in the dead of night, Haunted by ghosts, too heavy to fight. Her reflection, a stranger she fears to meet, A shattered image, incomplete.

In the silence, her heart silently breaks, As she wonders how much more she can take. The weight of shame, like chains that bind, Leaving scars on the soul, deep in her mind.

Each scar a reminder of battles lost, Of pain and sorrow, at great cost. Yet amidst the darkness, a flicker of light, A hope that someday, she'll find respite.

But for now, she sits, with scars unseen, Lost in a world where she's never been seen. A girl with a story too sad to tell, Trapped in a nightmare she knows too well.