Self mutilation becomes a habit, one she just can’t break.
but the scrawling on her own personal canvas are dismissed as second-rate.
Running away seems simple, quick and elegantly sure
but awaking in the same old place shows leaving isn’t the cure.
Proper drugs leave her dreary, stuffed with cotton wool
but the ones that wipe away the dark exert a deadly pull.
We are legion. The broken and the sad.
On the search for something to wipe away our pasts.
Lean closer traveller for I did find a path.
Fairy stories saved my life.