This room is my home. The only place that I can let out my pain and my sadness. This room, with it's cold, welcoming tile floors. Come home to a family that is like a circus. Fighting parents, screaming siblings, and death stares from them all. They all think I am a burden. I just try to make it through one day at a time. But everyday feels like another burden on me. They just wake me up, and then I cover every bruise with makeup. No one at school knows about this. I cannot burden anyone else with the pain that I carry, for it is my fault for being a burden to them. Since I never talk to anyone, I get it worse at school. They call me fat, ugly, stupid, and so many other words. So I go home each day, and force myself to carve the words into my skin. So everyday I can remind myself of what I am. I am not suicidal, only tortured by this world. I am not depressed, only angry that I am still alive. Everyone at school knows about the words I carve in my skin, for I take no care to cover up what they already think I am. One person has tried to heal me, but I have to push them away everytime, because my pain is my burden. I am a burden. I am ugly. I am stupid. I am still alive. I think that this is it for me. I am a canvas of bleeding words, that remind me everyday of what I am, but the words are the death of me. My favorite color is yellow. The color of sunrises, of happiness, of joy, of beauty. But yellow doesn't suit, for I am bleeding red canvas of words and they still think they can heal me. These cruel people will finally see, even though it's too late now. I am bleeding red. I am fading slowly. No I will go to a place where I can see the yellow sun come up through the clouds and no longer be a bleeding red canvas.