In a Suicidal Rage

She sighed

As the .line

Appeared on her wrist.

What's the excuse this time?

"The cat scratched me"

Wont fly anymore.

The last time the cat scratched you,

She did it eight times,

Each cut deeper than the last.

She must have been in a murderous rage

To slash up your wrists so many times

. All . at . once .

Either that or

You were in tears over a silly boy

And a girl you thought was your friend,

But she had turned a true friend against you.

You were the one to slash your own wrists

In a suicidal rage,

You had the note written and everything,

A message to everyone in it.

And in the one to the girl who had turned on you,

You told her you hoped she was happy you were dead,

Because she told you she'd laugh

If harm ever came your way.

So what is it this time?

Maybe I could tell the truth.

Perhaps now's the time to say,

It's been me all along.

What happened to your wrists, girl?

The razor blade slipped.