Pretty little paintings sewn into my skin,
Watching my pain express itself the further I dig in.
Each a story of its own,
With the sweetest tales tangled between the reddy mess,
Each one that appears, I love myself a little less.
The pain and insanity that everyone thinks it take
To drag a blade between the veins,
Is nothing compared to whats within,
When somebody decides to throw me away.
Like useless junk disposed into a rubbish can
I'm left broken and empty with my heart in my hands,
Picking up the pieces, trying to leave behind the pain,
But each time I step up, The world around falls again.
