The Beginning

Broken. 
Crying.
Alone in her room.
A mirror breaks
and recognition flashes across her face.
I've seen this before.

A shard of glass
finds its way to her shaking hands;
locates the vulnerable, white skin
on her forearm.
This is only the beginning.
This will make it stop. This will make it bearable.

Kitten scratches.
No blood was drawn,
a life was spared.
Next time I'll do it right.

Tears.
Pain,
finds a razor in the bathroom cupboard.
Once. Twice. Three times it is done.
I will not be weak tonight.

Blood
drips down her arm.
I must go deeper.
Drops turn into a stream,
mimicking the tears flooding from her eyes.
This will make it go away, this will make me forget.

This is the beginning,
but, by no means will it
ever be the end.