You're writing your sins down as scars on your wrists and you're hiding them all behind bright colored bracelets. And you're praying at night just to help you get sleep but you're so lonely at times that you can't eat.

And it gets lonelier still when all your friends start to change. Move to new places or move on to new things. But these things don't intrigue you. Not like it does them. So you shove it aside, try not to show your frustration.

There is no salvation. No escape from discontent. Only death dates etched into tombstone cement.

But your frustration's swelling to an ear splitting hum. And your heart's pounding rhythms in the beat of a war drum. There's a slash - a quick flick of the wrists. Broken mirrors. And tears. And fingers curled in fists.

You started tearing down the walls in the back of your mind. Just to find some solace or some peace of some kind. I hope that you find it - the reprieve you're looking for. If you feel disillusioned, I hope you won't anymore