Each cut...is a message.
But most can't Decipher
They don't understand the constant panic
The fear of life and death
The pain of smiling when you want to cry
The feeling of self Hatred and being unworthy.
Useless. A waste of space. Not belonging

They only see what you show them
Never trying to get a better look at the picture painted Before their eyes
Eve. If they knew they'd just ignore it.
Like everyone else do.

Each cut is a symbol
Every scratch is a mark
All my bruises are reminders

I hate to see them.
Clear on my skin
Hidden like the emotions
Deep with in

I drown in my own regrets
Tasting every bit of sorrow
Talking with doubt everyday
Feeling numb
But caged in by A burning fire of rage

I can't explain it
I don't want to say
To communicate this...with someone other than me
I'd rather die

But I don't think you understand yet...
The hidden picture
All behind the scenes

Maybe look harder....
For the real me