Bottled Up

She got up,
bad day.
Wants to wash her pain away
with the blood stained razor,
fixing her scars
with a sheet of paper.
She's messed up,
what a way
just to say that
she's all alone
and no one gives a
damn about her.
The deeper she cuts,
the less she gets hurt.
The longer she burns,
the less it gets worse.
I'm okay,
what a lie.
My mind's blown.
I'm out of time
to stop the ticking bomb ahead
of blowing up and causing deaths -
but maybe now it'll stop the aching
of the ones who can't just say it,
the ones who bottle it all up,
like me.