Everywhere they haunt me,
Everywhere they follow.
Everywhere they taunt me,
Everywhere they swallow
Chunks of my soul.

With charming smiles
And scars on their wrists.
Smiles of denial,
Where darkness exists,
That's where they dwell.

Who comes to who?
Is it me or them?
What can I do,
With tales so grim?
Do they seek my help?

Unanswered questions.
Some things are sure,
They provoke reflection
And there is no cure,
For their depression.
It's all a cycle.

Some days they're joyful,
Then days of grief,
Days that are gleeful  
Are all too brief
They disintegrate.

Do they see the cycle
In which they're trapped?
The pain gets recycled,
So one must adapt
Or they'll be consumed.

They tell me stories
Of struggle and shame.
This world is gory
And I feel their pain.
They leave their mark.

Who is it I speak of?
Our lost generation.
Go take a peak of
The youth in frustration,
Come watch us suffer.

We're rotting in hell
And you're here with us.
Oh what is that smell?
Infected wounds and ****,
From suicide scars.

Scars of survival,
Also remembrance,
Of their revival.
From the voids sweet trance.
Suicide scars,
the tattoos of Death.