I planted my feet among the earth and the streets
grew morose,
the scent of sweet surrender filtered my nose,
just a child so cold,
a little girl so alone with no place to call her home,
she keeps her feet planted,
she's not seen.

She can find her worries locked in a box,
among the streets she roams,
a woman she sees in a mirror,
someone so familiar,
her feet still planted on the ground.

The woman shows cuts across her wrists
with a smile,
shows her feet still planted on the ground.

The sky shows stars as sharp as knives,
the silence haunts her reflection,
her reflection to be perfect,
but her negativity getting the best of her.

She looks on with dried tears and blood-shot eyes.
She will never be perfect again.

Elizabeth Tyease Collins

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/psychotic-little-girl/