Self Mutilation by a Pencil

All I can draw is lines on a paper
How can I possibly put a phrase together
Blank eyes stare at blank pages
Hard to believe my heart is completely makeshift
Scattered streets run through my head
If not for your life, I would be dead.
So smile at me just one more time
Make me believe for a second you are mine.
High heels and a dress to play the part
Dancing with you isn't exactly an art.
I'm releasing my mind, breathing my soul-
"Never give your heart away," is what I was told.
If these thoughts you can understand
The reasons why I hold pencils in my hands
Self-mutilation is what writing is about
What my mouth can't say, my combined letters scream it out loud
This is the makeup covering my mind
Not my heart, because it's impossible to find.