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.