Her flesh is the peach paper

The knife, a silver pen

The blood that's drawn is red ink

And her life is her drawings

She draws her pen across

In careful, scarlet streaks

Sniffling quietly the whole while

And crying deep beneath

She swirls her pen in circles

And strikes it straight across

The peach paper is now deadly red

Like it was never peach at all

She thinks of all the comments

All the angry bullies thoughts

Stupid, dumb, obnoxious

It all went to her heart

Her paper is her peach skin

The pen, a silver knife

The ink that's drawn is red blood

And her drawings are her life


My entry for the Anti-Bullying thing.

I honestly didn't know had this in me.