A scar on my wrist,
To you it's just a mark.
I know how it was placed there,
Alone in the darkness.
Odd how esoteric,
A single slice may be.
To me a cry for help.
For you slipped sheath.
Only the ones who done it,
Are the ones who can see.
The marks on your wrist,
Was from a mental disease.
4th poem. Hope you guys like it.