box it up..FedEx it away....
the truth is only a scabby wrist away...
born hypocrites rise, rally and defend the titles you claI'm with
bruises on end..
problems, problems
problem children dint do what their told....
problem children are all the same...
"stereotype me please"......
i hold the problems skin deep to deep to breathe....ill carve them out so
that all can see
am i a problem child yet?!
......
throw up fists covered with slits and wrist bands.....
poser i am not.......i have problems
so deep so clear.....if only you knew....you'd understand why i inflict
pain, i swear!
i want out of this world
i want nothing to do with it
ill write poetry till I'm sick of it
sheep's we herd..........purposely looking for barn yard animals to
defend.....am i a problem child yet!?



( dint freak.....this poem is about those who want a reason to
cut......cutting is a serious illness....NOT A FAD!.....but im not directing
this to any who have problems with cutting......this is to those who mock
the illness by turning it into "the punk rock thing to
do".........every one has problems....t
 
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