Painting Scars
The scars on my arm and my skin tell a story,
A story of hurt and pain,
The ghosts of my past, the torture of my history,
The fear that comes back again,
The urgency of emotions scream to be out,
On the outside looking in,
There's only one way to release this pain and doubt,
To let it bleed from my skin,
So out comes the razor, to stop all my shaking,
To let go feelings inside,
So tired of just wearing my mask and faking,
Sometimes I wish I'd just die,
So don't try to tell me it's wrong that I'm cutting,
You look at me with despise,
Don't you know that doing this, is the only thing,
To avoid my own demise!
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