Little Emo Girl

It's a black blade,
with a deep blue handle.
She holds it in her hand.
She swipes it across her flesh,
In any way she can.

It pops out like a spring,
the blood pouring from the wound.
Prefers is all the while,
She loves the way it burns,
From when he made her smile.

A scare is up,
the time has come,
Joy should be abound.
Yet here she sits,
Her blood covers the ground.

She cuts again,
Deeper this time,
This time on her neck.
She wonders what..
Wonders what the heck?

She felt his lips.
She felt his kiss.
She felt his touch,
She lost it.
She is worthless.


And he wasn't worth the pain... And he wasn't worth the blood... And he wasn't worth the time she spent, he wasn't worth the worry. He wasn't worth giving herself to him. He wasn't worthy of her. He never will be worthy. That's why I should put down the sharp thing in my hand, that my fingers are curled around, that won't leave my hand, even thought it hasn't touched my skin. Even though I unmarked. I'm just hollow.