Silence is the ghost clinging to the walls
silence opens the cage
filling my mind with haunting thoughts
I'm chained down to the ground
watching as my dreams are slaughtered
and my doubts are raised
i watch from my prison cell as the world wanders by
watching, hoping, asking
for someone to save me

As pen hits paper
stained red
his thoughts run lose
writing one word across the page
REGRET

for the cuts on his arm
for the ones he's hurt
for the stories he'll never tell
'till there's nothing left but scars; six feet under

You  sent me running into the night
taking my painted picture with a twist,
blood bleeding down my wrist.
My painted picture had a twist
My paint brush; a razor
My canvas: my wrist

Silver soldiers marching across her skin
silencing the voices within
marching
leaving footprints; crimson red
fighting the demons in her head
her minds the  battle sight
her skin littered with blood red graves
the soldiers rise every night filling new demons with fright
fighting till the war is over and all that's left are scars,
when the demons have won.