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The cut
I tried it once
to ease the pain,
no thought of addiction
would my mind sustain,
but now it's become
my only bliss,
the sharp sting of a razorblade's
bloody kiss,
it started with a few but soon got worse
the burden of long sleeves is now my curse,
I am a scarred angel with broken wings
they've locked me up and the song of freedom my heart can't sing,
when will I stop
my urge just increases,
I look at my scars
and my heart breaks to peices,
I am ashamd of what I've become
my thoughts of happiness have not yet begun,
but my wings will heal
and I will fly away,
because my flawed body
is not how I want to stay.
