I look upon these scars,
As I feel the tears flow down my eyes.
Brushing my fingers against my wounds,
The pain soothes me as I see the blood drip.
The scars grow more and more,
Becoming an endless fantasy.
I look into the mirror and see a hollow version of myself,
A shell of who I am.
Looking at the scars,
As I frown from my past actions.
I have more scars than I show,
But nobody ever gets to see them.
Every cut and scratch in my heart,
And every bruise or gash in my soul.
Will I ever be me again,
Or am I doomed to be this hollow empty shell?
