The hurt on me
Is shown to see
The blade and my wrist
I can’t resist
The cuts of each time
The blood of each hate
I tally them up
I count eighty eight
Now it is eighty-nine
And ninety and ninety-five
Everything you ever tell me...
Everything's a lie.
I keep slashing my problems away
Until there is no more to scar
There is no more feelings left inside
No feelings left to hide.

 
Copyright © breaknbnjmn, All Rights Reserved