There was a girl in the front of my class
Who yesterday took the breath that was her last
She wrote a few notes
'I'm sorry I didn't say,
but my mind was messed up,
You couldn't save me anyway,
And to the girl in the back of the class,
Who feels the way I did...
How does someone so perfect,
Feel so insecure,
as to scar her skin with cuts and burns
And still want to hurt more?
How does someone so loving,
Learn to hate her own guts,
Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade as if her mind isn't dark enough
Amanda L. -Dark Enough
