My heart is quite frail.
It's been broken so much.
It cannot be healed by the gentlest of touch.
Love comes so freely.
But i have to reject.
Only because i built a wall, to shield and protect.
It really is hard.
I feel all alone.
Maybe my heart has turned into stone.
It would make sense; how empty i feel.
And how this pain has turned so real.
I wear my scars outside, but inside as well.
If you just paid close attention, i'm sure you could tell.
But nobody cares about the past.
As soon as the blood stops, they're gone.
It's that fast.
As soon as they're gone, you're back at square one.
All alone, broken hearted, and completely done.

I refuse to cry.
No, not this time.
As the pain rolls over me,
I suppress the horrid screams.
I will not succumb to the demons.
No, I will not let them wreck my dream.
I will not cry.
Will not be weak.
I will be strong.
I. Will. Be. Strong.

I'm grasping at the ropes,
Trying to keep you moored.
Even though the smoke of hopes,
Flame is long obscured.
It's hard to let go of what we had,
To forget the best of memories.
So I try to dry my tears and be glad,
As I let you sale 'cross your own seas.
The hardest thing you'll ever do,
Is let go of the one you love,
Or let go of someone who loved you.
And recognize the one above.
It's hard to see beyond this bend,
Still I do not glance behind,
For what is done, what has an end,
Is graven deeply in my mind.
But let these scars heal in time,
For pain does numb,
And focus on the forward climb,
And be the knight I have become.

It's hard to tell, but beneath my smile,
I struggle with each long stupid mile.
Each step I take is a mental battle.
It's hard to tell, I sit proud in my saddle.

I don't have the scars on my body,
No wars you can physically see.
It's all in my heart, my mind and my eyes.
I say I'm fine, I am the victim of my lies.

I cry at night, alone with my demon.
It tears me apart, I have nowhere to run.
In the morning I'm brave, as I crawl out of bed.
Because the demons are there, they stay in my head.

It's time to come out,
To tell my story.
I've waited too long,
It's time to speak up.
Starting with their words,
And ending with my thoughts.
starting with the fists to my face,
And the claws to my arms.
It started like a game.
I was a child playing battle,
But it turned into survival.
A fight to live, a fight for will.
Begging myself for one more day,
Begging myself for a reason to stay.
This battle still goes on, inside my head.
It's a survival game, with no rules.
It's playing cards with the devil,
He's expected to cheat.
It was hating myself,
And hating myself for hating myself.
It was being proud of my scars,
But ashamed of how they got there.
It was begging to die, but desperate to live.
It was needing to be loved,
But feeling like your scars are too ugly,
And your heart too empty.
It's feeling worthless, and being broken.
It's cutting your worth into your skin,
Because pain makes you strong, brave, hard,
But it makes you ugly, ashamed, quiet, alone.
It makes them talk behind your back,
About what they've seen,
But never what they ignore.
It's wanting people to know,
But not wanting to say it out loud,
Because that makes it real.
It becomes the truth.
And you can't handle it.

I never told anyone.
I kept it all a secret,
Written on my arms.
It's hard to think,
That someone cares.
I think I still hate myself,
I'm still tempted by the pain,
Then I think of your face,
And the disappointment there,
If you only knew what I'd done,
To fight the battle.
If you understood the scars,
If you knew the reasons.
My scars are poetry,
They hold a story.
I know the past of each.
I wish I had the courage,
To speak up, bare my scars.
I make up stories,
About why they're there.
I say something stupid,
No one ever suspected.
They still don't.
But my body aches to tell.
For someone to listen.
If they truly looked,
They'd see it was already written,
On my arms.