Butterflies on her arms then can never fly
Released by pain into a deep red sky

Sharpie marker tears on a stone face
Glass cutter knives take her skins place

The ones who cry for her know her pain
She dare not stop unless she go insane

A artistic name written in scars
To a split personality trapped between bars

She isn't a mutation just a mutilator
But she views her own hands as a traitor

A rebuke from the angles who watch her sleep
Know what separates the strong from the weak

Draw into the future is her painful past
She will do whatever it takes to last