lines

She's typical...
a bad ass with a bad attitude
Black clothes
Black hair
Big Black Combat Boots
the typical "I hate everything"
I know her well
I know all her cliches
all her I don't cares

As I sit watching her with her "I hate" facade
I see them
she tries to hid them
she covers them with mountains of braclets
and spike studded leather straps
but if you look just so
you can see them
the little white lines
she hids so carefully beneath

The fragile scars of "I've had it"
We all have them
but some are more literal than others.
The release that can only come
from the physical.


I want to grab her
I want to throw my arms around her
and tell her that it will get better,
that these are NOT the best years of her life.
But I just sit and casually glance.
a silent prayer going out to keep
her safe, to bring her through
to end her little white lines.