May 2014
My wrists show my pain,
Yet you still laugh, and think I'm insane?
My razor is bloodied,
My skin so badly sullied.
Blood runs down my arms,
I can see where I carved.
If I died right now,
would anyone care how?
Yet you still laugh, and think I'm insane?
My razor is bloodied,
My skin so badly sullied.
Blood runs down my arms,
I can see where I carved.
If I died right now,
would anyone care how?
