I Saw Her Scars……

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She walks through the halls, I take note of it all.

She hears the names being called, She notices the lies being told.

She feels the heavy atmosphere full of rumors and hidden lives.

Someone lies about her and everyone else believes.

She sits in the corner, the last desk of the row.

Like a black and white picture fading away very slow.

The point, the stare, their laughter fills the air.

No sleeves to hide what she had done, only a painted veil.

She remembers that night, the night they all laugh about.

If only they were there, If only they all knew,

What this game could do to you.

The screams were loud, the door was locked, the bruise was bold.

The steel was cold, her skin was warm,

The room was dark, her tears were not shown.

She fell to her knees & looked to the sky,

She tried but couldn’t even cry.

She cuts too deep, but she didn’t care,

Anything to not be here.

She felt like air, She fell to the ground,

And then She couldn’t hear a sound……Ever.

Copyright ©2015 AbhinavMajumder. All Rights Reserved.

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34 responses »

  1. This is truly a topic many people choose to not speak about, and yet you’ve given it a beautiful voice. I recently read a book I recommend called “Sharp.” It’s a memoir written by a male cutter, which is actually kind of rare. We mostly hear about girls cutting. For me, escape came through thirty-seven years of drugs and alcohol. I am at last comfortable with who I am, and no longer feel the need to anesthetize myself. I am free. Life is good.

    Liked by 2 people

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