The depths of your soul
The blackness of your heart
The features of you face
Are truly perfected art
The hole in your being
The gap in your life
Has resulted from years
Of sorrow and sacrifice
The dark colors of your clothing
The looseness of your atire
Comes from the bottom of your heart
Wear there lies a fire
Which burns through your soul
Pulses through your veins
Makes you pick up the razor
And cut away the pain
The empty space inside
You cover up and hide
With the intimidating aura
Of hate and suicide
The warmth of tyour blood
Flowing down your wrist
comes from the bitter sweet compassion
From where your skin and razor kissed.
 
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