They're Painted Red

A Poem by Jane Doe

Sick to my stomach,
Up comes your lies,
You're trickery and deceit,
Then my heart dies.

As it usually does,
On a day to day basis,
When I break down and scream,
Because in reality, I can't face it.

I'm a coward,
Wishing to run and hide,
Screaming in pain,
Wishing to die.

But the heat increases,
As the lines seem to,
Draw themselves,
My skin ornate from lies, from you.

From pain you caused,
I'm ugly now!
I'm fat and worthless!
It's your fault, some how.

You caused this,
You fix it,
You solve my problem,
Fix me before it appears, another slit.

Save me from drowning,
They're painted red,
Both my sorrow and madness,
Killing me, for soon I will be dead.