The Hidden Wound

My tangled black hair hides my sorrowful eyes, My clothes soaked in blood, a tale of my cries. Family's deaf silence, they can't see my pain, parents scream harshly, leaving nothing but disdain. Torment and anguish, each day is a fight, words sharp as daggers, they pierce through the night. The cold razor glides deep, a path to my bone, each cut that I make feels like I'm all alone. Hunger gnaws at my stomach, a beast left unfed, starving for comfort, for warmth, I dread. In the shadows I linger, where echoes don't cease, each whisper of need turns to a desperate pleas. I smoke my last cigarette, ash falling like rain, each trace of the hurt brings back memories' stain. In darkness, I wander, with no hope to borrow, each flicker of light fades, consumed by my sorrow. And in my last moment, when shadows draw near, my clothes drenched in crimson, my fate becomes clear. Indifferent and blind, my parents remain, with the blade in my hand, I shatter the chain.

After slicing my veins, into silence I fall, in the depths of despair, I'm forgotten by all. Starved of affection, in anguish I drown, a ghost of a child, lost without a crown...