Her Masterpiece Is Her Story-Part Two

(please read "Her Masterpiece Is Her Story" before reading the second part. It'll make more sense and probably be more enjoyable!) The girl who has beautiful scars, And the boy with marks of strength, Are now separated by distance, And that is causing some teenage angst. The girl wonders how the boy is doing. Her paintbrush calls her name. The two can't talk right now, And she feels she's to blame. The girl's best friend is lonely, And she isn't much better. The only way honesty is revealed, is through a heart felt letter. Her scars are fading away, Everyone knows her secret, so she can't add to the art. She's wishing she could draw more cuts, At night the voices in her mind take over her heart. Her masterpiece is disappearing, Her artwork is going away. "What caused you to do this!??!" her family asks. "I...I hate myself." is all she can say. She's trying to be okay, If not for herself then for her friends, If there's one thing she can't take, It's their fatal ends. But she doesn't know how the boy is, She doesn't know his feeling, Her mind is going crazy, Her sanity is reeling. Since she doesn't know how the boy is doing, Her anxious mind is filled with worry, Her demons have told her something. They're telling her the worst horror story. Her masterpiece is fading, I've told you this before. Her scars are going away, She wants to make more. But she doesn't make any. For the sake of those she loves. She restrains from her paintbrush. Even though it fits like a glove. Her story is continuing, Her painting isn't dry. But her canvas is even more, down upon her thigh. Maybe she'll erase some drawings. She's trying to be okay. She actually doesn't want to get better. But what am I supposed to say? Be honest and say she doesn't want that? Be truthful and say she doesn't care? Because in her life right now, Having no motivation? She wouldn't dare! She misses the life she had before. She didn't mind hiding her own part of her life. She would just cope her own way. She'd cope by using a knife. Maybe one day she'll draw on an actual paper, Or paint with an actual paintbrush, But right now with her anxiety, She feels that there is no rush. Don't worry about the girl. She just cries every night. But she has to keep going, Her best friend is in near sight. It'll be alright everyone, I'll keep you up to date, The girl's painting will continue. If that's the artist's fate.