Shh

Our scars cry louder than the loudest of cries

The blood drips to the floor, hiding the pain.

We try to keep it secret, use long sleeves as disguise

We're stuck to this addiction, a nonstop train

Soon you run out of skin

You've scarred your stomach, legs, and arms

What is it you expect to win?

The razor is the perfect little charm

We keep ourselves secluded

And hide our obvious hurt

Alcohol won't dilute it,

HA! I'll take these cuts over wearing a skirt

Remember as you slice away

The pain that you may cause

Though we believe there's no other way

Let me hear a round of applause!

The blood will drip, the razors will slice, it won't make a sound

A pretty little picture drawn in red

Be careful not to slice too deep, or you may end up in the ground

Somedays I worry for my fate,

and others, I'm not so concerned...

Reviews

[Rogie-Dodge]

I *really* like the first line "Our scars cry louder than the loudest of cries". That says it all.
And I like the image of "A pretty little picture drawn in red" with the ugliness of the scars and cutting described as 'pretty' .. damn, forgotten what that technique is called, but it is very effective there.

[Aryana Anonymous]

I really like this. Stay strong,

[Angel of Chaos]

I like this.. The darker side of writing has an appeal to me. Thank you for sharing

[Vidya Bacchus]

The habit of cutting is such a dangerous one and deeply sad.For you to only feel better by hurting yourself is such a strange concept.You have written this very well.Great piece:)