You say it’s wrong to do the things I do.
Control.

I look away because you just don’t understand what its like to be me.
Control.

You say you understand as you lean forward and ask the question that I
dread. I did not’t want you to know, I did’t want you to see. It was just
one mistake of mine, just one. The question slips from your lips: “why do
you do that?” I look at you my lips sealed, I feel like your gaze is
piercing my skin, not knowing what to say.
Control.

You say you understand. You say you used to do what I do. But there is no
way you could understand your not me. No matter how hard you try you’re not
me. And no what ever I do I’m never going to be good enough for you.
Control.

You don’t know, you just think you do. My sleeve slips up revealing dark
pink purple scars you glances at them I notice that look in your eyes like
the first time you saw. You look scared but at the same time annoyed,
annoyed because you don’t have the control. Control over me. I turn and walk
away pulling my sleeves down. Knowing you can’t stop me… knowing you can’t
control me any longer.

 
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