She walks to halls wondering if anyone really cares.On her thighs are slashes which testify to turmoil and pain.The heart is a witness to broken trusts and promises.The mind is full of darkness, numbed to love and life.The hands account for injecting temporary happiness.The mouth speaks in silence as she walks the halls.The feet record journeys on the street corners.The hair smells of dirt; feels rough to the touch.The body as a whole: so numb to the feeling of pain.No one really cared nor did they seem to notice.The scars on her thighs never even seemed to fade.Her heart ceased to beat just that one last time.Her mind never to feel hate again nor of love.Her hands rest with the bottle in her palms.Her mouth brings temporarily painlessness one last time.Her feet stay bare never to move or dance again.Her hair in knots and dull never to smell like roses.Her body lay bare and broken, but never to feel pain again.