those scars on his arms, they tell stories. They aren't the happiest of stories, but they are stories. Stories that may make someone cry, But that same person is one of the ones who caused it. He walks through his head. Telling him what people are saying "fag" "emo" "attention whore" "you should just kill your self already" "sucicidal weirdo" the farther he goes down the hall the longer his sleeves go down his arms, and the more his body shivers. He has been long gone for awhile now. but nobody knows. Nobody asks. That night he took a knife deep into his wrist, and drug it across several times until he couldn't anymore. He sat and waited. When he felt himself slipping away he started to smile. He died with a smile on his face and scars on his body. He's gone now And now is when people notice the words don't only hurt, but they can kill too
