Look at this, look at this!
Look at this picture on my wrist.
It isn't pretty?
It isn't good?
Covered in all my blood.
I thought of you,
I thought of life,
When i carved this picture with my knife.
I can't shout,
I can't cry,
But with this wound i can try.
A silent scream from my arm,
Drowning out the deathly calm.
The crimson tears drip away,
But still the pain will always stay.
