Each time I cry
I die
A little more
Inside
No one understands
How it feels to look down below
All I see is scars
That tell tales
Of the unknown
Some think it's wrong
Others offer pity
A few give condolences
While the rest are speechless
I was destined to be something
I wasn't supposed to do this
I was too ungrateful
Too selfish
Ugly isn't enough
To describe it all
It haunts me each night
But at the same time
I can't live without
My sharpened knife
-Savannah
