She sits, she cries, she bleeds.
A knife in hand, her one true friend,
a special bond as hard as steel.

Outside, birds sing without a care;
a song too bright for impending night
of heartless fathers who rape their kin.

She stares at marks that line her arm;
ripples of shame from distant pain,
that fresh blood attempts to hide.

The sun still shines, trees still green,
as if to scorn those left forlorn
from mothers who walked away.

Tears fail eyes but blood still seeps
in pools of red; all words unsaid
to a cold uncaring world.

No lovers kiss as evening fades;
no heart to share, just flesh to bare
to keep a would-be friend.

She lies at rest, she feels relief
as blood congeals on wounds that heal,
but inner pains remain.