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It was never about the skin
It was never about the skin
Social butterflies.....
They know nothing
It was never about the skin
I was cutting the inside on the outside
There just wasn't enough outer space
For all my inner pain
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How is it the people
Who've never seen me
Who couldn't identify me on
Some picture ID
Seem to see beneath the surface
Of my catastrophe?
And how is it
I can feel the pain in your veins
But I can't find some way to sumberge it
It comes back again
And I've never seen your eyes
But I'm sure they're no different from mine
Cutting yourself
But hoping for the same surprise
Can't you realize
A part of me dies
With each of your demise
I slowly look and see you're all that
I've reprised
All that I find in myself
I find in you
So how is it
I can love your mind
But hate mine?
Well, I haven't got a clue
But I do know
Every emotion is written in my poem
And I'm sure
You've felt the same way
About someone before
The same feeling
That you just can't shake
My only fear is
That one day these ties will break
And I'll go back to my razorblade
And make the same mistakes
