Ritual

Everyday she wonders.
Everyday she cries.
Everyday she opens her knife
and lets her blood fly.
Hoping not to be here.
Hoping not to awake.
Hoping just to slide on by
without a single quake.
These feelings they are ritual.
These feelings are a norm.
These feelings leave her all alone,
in isolation she is torn.
No on ever noticed.
No one ever cared.
No one ever tried to see
her broken heart that could be spared.
She lives a life of mystery.
She lives a life of fear.
She lives a life of sadness,
that always brings her tears.
Everyday she wonders.
Everyday she cries.
Everyday is Ritual.
No one will see her die.