Old Fashioned Scars

when the sun goes down and the artwork on her faceruns off into the bloodied sink

staring at the reflection of the blank canvas

through the shattered mirrora million pieces of empty

kind of like her, except without a heartbeatwell, almost

and she holds a butcher knifeinstead of a best friends hand to help her through

and presses down on her lip to draw blood

then curses herself for what shes done

and she sets up a tea party of her stuffed toysand reminises about the day,

she'll be with a boyand paints pretty pictures on her arms

with razorblades over old fashioned scars

her cigarette burns glitter like diamondsamongst her skinny legs

a moment in the spotlight, a moment she'll forget

dancing is not so fun all alonewith the company of your reflection

glaring back at you, staring back at you

and she gazes at her reflectionand watches at it laughs

'well i laugh with you too!' she screams'i kill myself before i ever become you'