I look at the cuts on my wrists and see,
the pain,
rejection
being hurt constantly.
The emotional abuse,
and same lines I hear,
I feel so ugly
it's perfectly clear.
My heart's been broken,
torn,
ripped out and shattered.
but who really cares.
I walk in the shadows
I cower in fear,
but no one understands
the pain that I feel,
the pain that's so real.
My cuts tell a story,
but as you can see,
the cuts on my wrists
are just a part of me.
Musicguy © Dec.2008