I wrote you a poem

I wrote it on my wrist

I wrote it with a razor-blade

It ended with a twist

The blade is sharp and narrow

I do it to kill the pain

As I finished my first sentence...

The blade hit a vein

I watched my poem run down my arm

I watched it drip to the floor

I saw a puddle of blood and then

I saw no more

Epilogue:

Seeing the thin stream of blood that leaked from the fresh cut on my wrist gave me an odd sense of relieve, it was the only thing that proved I was still human. I brought the razor-blade back to my wrist to make another cut, it barely stung...I was used to the feeling of the sharp metal cutting my skin. I looked at my wrist, looking at the criss-cross pattern the cuts and scars made. It wasn't just a pattern to me... It was the story of my life.

I kept looking at the blood that oozed from the two new cuts I made. It made a bright red path down my arm, and then made a small puddle on the floor. I close my eyes, I know I have to leave this save place. My sister will be pounding on the door soon, she has to get ready for school.

I grab a handful of toilet paper to wipe the blood from the floor. I can't leave any evidence, my sister will see it when she's putting on her make up and she will tell our father. He will freak and then I will be screwed. If he finds out he'll probably contact mom, and of course she will loose her mind and come here to drag my sorry ass up to Jacksonville. And I'm not going to let that happen.

My sister and I couldn't be more different. Although she was a year older than me she was way shorter and she was beautiful. Where I was tragically plain with my long wavy brown hair, pale skin and brown eyes. She got al the good genes, although she was a midget she still managed to look like a supermodel. Her black hair was cropped really short, she had a heart shaped face with big bright blue eyes a straight nose and the perfect pouty lips. Where I was the social underdog she was ms. popular, always happy and bubbly with a big group of friends, she knew every one. And everyone knew her. She was Mary Alice Swan the chief's perfect daughter.

And I was the other one.

Less perfect.

As I said.

I Isabella Marie Swan am the social underdog of Forks High.

I pull down my sleeve when I hear Alice pounding on the door.

" Bella, open the door. I have to get ready for school"

I looked around the bathroom checking if I left any evidence, when I was positive I didn't I opened the door to let my sister in. She looked at me and sighed.

"what do you do here anyway.. It's not like you use make up." I looked at my shoes and muttered.

"I had to go to the bathroom."

"you had to use the toilet for 20 minutes." I didn't want to look her in the eye. I knew the look she had on her face.. Mostly disbelieve and sarcasm, but the latter was only to cover up the hurt. I knew it caused her pain, It caused her pain because she knew I wasn't telling the truth.

"Yeah.. I think I'm coming down with the stomach flu.." I trailed of.

"Well, are you done now?" she asked.

"yeah, it's your turn.." I left the tiny room as fast as I could, not looking at my sister. I knew she was standing in the doorway, staring at me with that sad and hurt look in her eyes.