Every morning
she would look into her bathroom mirror
and wonder who is the girl
staring back at her.
She looked dead in the eyes
chapped lips and crooked smile
with skin as pale as winter
covering her whole flesh and blood.
She touches her flaws
eyes, nose, mouth and cheeks
but her wrists were the most beautiful
full of scars; memories.
She remembers every one of them
the good and the bad
she cut to stop the pleasure
she cut to numb the pain.
So every night
she would look into her bathroom mirror
and adore her beautiful creation on her wrists
each stroke, each cut, represents a hidden memory.
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