Gone Girl

Gone Girl..... That razor blade Is her paint brush/ That canvas... Is her wrist Her rush Of blood/ To her head/ Means/ She's been painting deep into her flesh!..... Her pain is still aching/ Her hands dripping with blood She couldnt stop shaking/ That Paint brush Soaked up Some of her pain/ Still a broken girl remained Staring out her window pain Heading down that lonely road/ she plagued/ with illness/ depression state/ Raged/ is reckoning/ taking over her brain/ every thought is plagued/ With depression/That's she been trying to escape/ But she trapped/ She feels she's been raped/ Of her old self/ She screaming But no one seems to help/ She yelled/ With noone there except her self/ She so sick of seeing her reflection everywhere/ So she smashed up every single mirror/ She can't face her fears/ Her demons are over so powering its clear/ What she must do/ She thinks these only one way out/ And its now time over due To get away from her broken home/ She Tried not to show/ no emotion/ But she holds emotion In/ like a renowned poet/ Whos constantly Going back over it/ So its now her time to go... No love/So the blood stains/ Remained/ On her paint brush! A broken child/ with a broken smile! That never should have gave up/ She painted her face with clown make up/ With a Smiley face To hide the frown/Because beneath that make up/ Her tears fell to the ground/ Where depression held her down.. But she never cried out loud/ She was way too proud But her parents love soon departed/ In fact they never new she was an art-ist! She kept It secret/ Until the day she cut too far Barely missing her main art-eries They never knew about her secret world behide her wardrobe/ If you could switch roles/ And go into HER mind of a broken soul/ And you'll find out how far the rabbit hole goes/ Her secret past/ Came back to haute her/ No one saw that masterpiece/ called "the crying daughter"/ Would it be a masterpiece/ If she was still hear today/ That's remains to be said/ let me paint the picture for you..Instead/ That Paint splattered covered In red/ Covers her face but can't cover Those whispering noises/ In her head/ There Getting lounder/ She is screaming but she feels voiceless/ In the world that now surrounds her/ She now paints deep into her flesh So she can escape that madness, If not for one hour or one second She's now a drug addifted felon Who never learnt her lesson Her hand is steady She feels ready To force the razor blade deep into her flesh..... Her wrist now blead, dripping Onto the cold bathroom floor Those noises whispering In her head Fade Only for Her to wake The room is white Not like/ her bathroom This one is bright... Nurse she awake! Her silent screams That have become so deadly Her nightmares are now her dreams She thinks she not worthy Of life, Not knowing why she decides To die... Tears rolling down her face As she heads to the bathroom and grabs The razor blade She forces the sharp blade across her wrist once again Im telling you her story she confessed As the medics,Didn't make it in time She lying on floor dead Her poem left, in her hand that read.... The deep dark red That Paint now pours Onto the cold floor My body cold The pain fades away Along with my soul Im Finally falling into an endless sleep No Screams/ Just a faint sound of sirens No more crying/ I finally feel complete With nothing but complete.. Silence. Credits most go to another poetry soup member for the opening line,not sure who but i remember seeing it and thought i would add my own thoughts to it. That razor blade Is her paint brush/ That canvas... Is her wrist