I write from experience
because this is all i know
this isnt some game
or a reality show

everything i write
spills from my pores
leaving people in a mass confusion
leaving them wanting more

anger still races through me
leaving myself in bewilderment
leaving me on my knees
crying for help

noone hears my screams
i dont carry the special light anymore
no longer the gleam

I still cry
somethings never change
people still screw me over
my life they rearrange

my arms still carry the same fading scars
bruises hang all over
i can tell just where they are

people havent changed
i cant see why
im waiting for my revenge
waiting for them to die

my mind is a clutter
feelings sill from my finger tips
after i feel better
is when i make the slits

i still catch shit
from my so called loved ones
telling me im not right
that what i do to myself
isnt love

the bottle is half empty
to hell hell with being half full
i need someone to help me up
just one last pull

my life is right here for you
just open your eyes and read
if you need someone to help you
dont take my hand
ill do something wrong
fuck it up again


 
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