Pretty Nails

See... I have a nail biting problem. I would bite them when I was... Nervous Angry Scared When I told Grandma She said to paint my nails. "Pretty girls don't have ugly nails." I was Nervous, Angry, and Scared a lot. I bit my nails a lot. The paint was red like my bleeding nail beds Like I was scratching on a coffin Desperate to escape the suffocation Of being six feet under I imagine it like my funeral Pretty in my final gown and underground for no one to see My parents would use pretty words My eulogies would talk about the pretty girl With the ugly nails Scratching. Scratching. Scratching. When things looked pretty It didn't stop the damage. It merely disguised it. My bleeding, bitten nails were hidden by polish. My bleeding, bruised heart was hidden by a pretty girl's smile. My bleeding, broken self esteem was encased In a pretty coffin in the dirt. All I can do now is scratch... scratch... scratch... Until my nails or polished red again.