I just found this... I wrote this years ago. It still has so much meaning in my life. I am not a great poet, but writing got me through a lot. Love is what she needed While she sat there bleeding. Her hearts pain pleading To escape her self beating. Life is her great escape But going on is more than she can take. There is comfort in creating scars. Her friend, Blade, could talk for hours. As it carved away her skin Her life's spark was growing dim. When she then picked up her pen and did not waver. Her life still scarred But now engraved in paper.
