Peices of my single soul,
Left with no freedom,
And no choices.
Skillets and remnants all scattered around.
My fear of about to get broken has already aparted,
As everything got carried away.
Iam glad though,
As i did get to realise that,
I'll never be able to help myself.
Iam just caressing my palm with the striving blade,
Which is about to be soaked in my blood;
While cutting the superficial layers and letting them to
behold the different places.
My skin,
About to be burned,
With the debt and sacrifice
Iam about to pay.
My pain even have to suffer,
The phase of inferiority.
Veins are just slaves and are sentenced to bring
out the whole content of blood to pour out from my hand.
We are broken and iam carving this truth on the wall of veins.
We are tearing apart and its hurting me no more.
Let me bleed,
Let me skip the next hours in which iam iam suppose to cry the bleeding crimson kind of tears.
