Things are much worse I presume
I cried a bit, cut a bit, and promised that I swear
It won't happen again

But I slipped again you see
I messed up and the blade went right to my hand
Like a magnet

There was a bit of blood not much I swear
But there were a lot of tears even so

So I guess today I cried a bit, cut a bit,
And broke a promise

Dripping black
Crying eyes
A dark spirit that never dies

She takes in sharp breathes
Watches her steps
And covers her bleeding, torn arms

The blade is ******
The scars are deep
Along with the sadness that lies beneath

Her tears are black
She cries in class
Nobody looks or even asks

To be alone
To be afraid
To be yourself and rejected anyway

To be emo

the marks on my skin
scars, you say?

no

these are not scars
not battle scars to me

for me, they tell me a story,
one that gets told time and time again
because each time the story slips
it must be rewritten
retold
reborn

In some states of mind, these could be battle scars
but that is another's perception

every mark to the skin
every broken piece
every cell split open

I woke in a pool of blood
Unaware of what had occurred
My feelings hit me like a flood
Understanding I now felt reassured

I'll never be good enough
Realising I'm use to the emptiness
I tried to stay strong and tough
But now im broken and a mess

Realising the walls I've built
So many scars to keep people away
Afraid to talk, to share my guilt
About every cut, feelings on replay

In my castle so solid made from pain
Walls all around cut me off
Never close enough to be hurt again
This may well be my last standoff

A love that never was

Oh but I felt it
As we left it behind
getting cut
on the raw edges
not yet worn by time
or effort

Just a fresh feeling

Let me pour my insides out for you
...
Now tell me what else you want me to do?

After all the years of bad experiences,

There's bound to be much damage.


You said you'll leave me never
You said your love's forever
You said things would get better

...As time goes by...

I'm cracking under pressure
I can't keep me together
My dead meat's so much fresher

Butcher, butcher,
Where's your knife?

Mind don't,
Won't you take a life?

It is time to cut the meat
The finites, they love their steak

Rare
They like me super fresh
Yes
They like my meat bare
Because I taste the best
When I do not get any rest.

My veins like glass shards
   itch beneath a memory
of aging brackish memories.


I couldn't lift my arms for they
fell like a breathless moment
                                 in a forest of regrets.  
    
                     No one heard them descend,
they just bled sap slowly, till all was hollow.

And all that was left was a time that fell,
                                      and the cuts where silent.

I was a moment standing in grandeur,
        but beneath it didn't really matter
                             I
                         was a hollow moment,
crumbling beneath life's weight.