As I drive the razor evermore so deep
my wounds getting wider, opening to seep
my arms now screaming
as though yearning to weep
no longer myself, am I able to keep...

A frail soul and a twisted mind
a shocking truth of the altered kind
beaten, battered, feeble and weak
no longer myself am I able to reap...

To exist in torment, not my passion
staying barely alive in societies fashion
scar tissue abound, skin tone ashen
I seek no one, not a bit of compassion...

Hurt as I know it...a comfortable burn
releasing my anguish, at every turn
bullied, degraded and left all alone
when I swing from the rafters
I'll be finally at home...