I tore my skin open with the blade and sighed. The blood came quickly as I stared.

My heart accelerated, having to pump faster to cover for the blood I lost.

And I cried.

I cried and bled.

And I was alone.

And they slept downstairs, not knowing my pain.

Not feeling it.

I sat and stared off into some distant place, trying to forget.

I can't forget.

Ever.

The scars my heart wear are gushing sorrow.

I hate sorrow.

But it is unfortunately my life now.

It is my pulse.

I'll die one night, from the blood I lost.

And no one will care.