I try to cut, through the skin, as if it's my last effort to free my own soul from it's own pain,
The skeletal bones and tissue intertwined, wanting to break free, from such limited physicality's
Rather to feel real pain, then this goopy stuff they call emotions,
I'm entangled in a war of not my choosing,
A world, I was not made for,
And I walk aware of this,
Every, single day i'm breathing hard and the cold air ***** all the warmth from my own blood,
And I feel nothing, but darkness, ******* out my soul,
The life I once wanted,
A fairytale forgotten while I'm living this horrid nightmare,
Full of language and knowledge I could care less about,
When all I wanna do is run in fields, and soak up the ocean with my heart,
And never return to a desk if it's the last thing I do,
Freedom from driving and technology,
A phone always beeping,
Just me, myself and I,
And a God that I could see with all the stuff out of the way
for further notice, I do not cut, so no one be afraid, I used it for poetic emphasis.