As blood ran down her legs

the rusty knife slicing my skin in long angry strokes
boiling water carrys them blood staining her legs.
why did she let this happen?
useless, fat, ugly worthless.
each stroke of the blade a memory, painful and dark
trying to slice the pain away.
working the blade up her body getting to her throat.
one last cut, one last lot of pain
and with a flick of her wrist, crimson blood drips down her body staining the white shower tiles.

this is how she was found dead in the shower soaking in her blood.
why didnt someone try save her, a simple smile could of changed her life.
but instead she used to walk the corridors of life getting pushed around.
now she walks the fires of hell even more lonely then before