What Does It Mean?

Skin

        I sit in my chair,

        Holding onto what little left I care.

        Tears stream down my cheeks as I can barely breathe.

        My mind showing much seethe. 

        My hand clenches the knife in my hand as I try and swallow the truth.

        The etches in my skin being the proof.

        Being so sad, so alone in my youth. 

        My breath comes quicker as I raise the knife. 

        Hoping to bleed away all the worry and strife.

        But suddenly there's a knock at my door, then a shinning light.

        A man ready to smite. 

        He comes forward and holds my hands, slowly pulling the knife away with a soft smile. 

        I only sat there as he talked for me a while. 

        Of course all my happy emotions were fake for him, but he'd never know. 

        He saw through my mask, holding me in a tight hug as he started to undergo.

        "Your skin is beautiful, please keep it clean."

        But I didn't know what he means. 

        "It's soft and fradgile, worth something more then what you are going through."

        And then, he knew exactly what to do.

        He took me out of the house, grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around me as we looked at the stars. 

        I suddenly felt light, like the bars,

had all lifted away from the weight of my chains.

        Like he had taken away all of my pain.