You wanna know how I got these scars?
Philophobia.
The fear of love.
Relatable non the less.
I still go searching.
Regrets
Fill my mouth
Like the words I left
Scarring my mouth over
Muffling the screams
I paint with blood
It is running down my fingertips
Dotting the floors
Smearing over my eyes
Leaving me seeing red
Anger
The say I'm mad for staying with you
For not leaving
Just as how I left them
But leaving you would mean my
Death
Wanting you is the equivalent of
Being drowned in my own bathtub by someone I have never met
But really the water is my tears
But I meant tears caused by you
And really the person I have never met
Is myself
But really it's who you turned into after you left
But didn't we both change?
You changed for her and
I cut away parts of myself you disliked, leaving me scarred over.
You wanna know how I got these scars?
I loved
And lost
And loved
And loved
And lost
And loved
And lost
Myself.
