Scars,
Road maps through my life,
Dark ones, light ones,
Fresh ones, healed ones.
They show the hell I've been through.
Deep ones, shallow ones.
Give me a blade and I'll use it.
Why is it I feel this way?
Why is it I found this way to cope?
Give me the medication I'll take it.
I may not want it but I'll take it.
Just tell me how to be,
And I'll try my best.
But never will I make a promise.
