Self Harm

• Lola Ravech, Grade 6
• Poetry
• 2018

She couldn’t cope,
all she knew was depressed,
she needed help right away,
she needed to confess.
She stood up to the mirror,
tears streaming down her face,
she positioned the razor,
then held her breath and braced.
A thin trickle of blood appeared,
it ran down her arm,
it looked like red paint on a canvass,
“what had she done?” She thought in alarm.
She bowed her head and accepted it,
she felt trapped behind bars,
she now knew...
no one could love a girl with scares.