She drags the silver shining blade across her porcelain skin. The only way to erase the pain is by letting the crimson river seep from her veins. Not a tear does she shed for the blade does not sting. The patron saint of the denial, with an angel face and a taste for all that is suicidal. Her crystal white face and her infant features display innocence and hide her shame. Her green crystal eyes heavily lined in black, the beauty captivating. What hides behind such eyes one will never know. She keeps it locked up so tight, like her heart; shattered so many times, it cannot be accessed. The pain in her mind, the memories she keeps, the clarity of them bringing her to recognition; the pain bringing her to her knees. No one truly knows her. She is a rebel. She is a Saint. She is the Salt of the earth. And she is dangerous.

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