I feel the eyes boring into me,
Into my brain, my soul, my spirit,
But still that doesn’t excuse the pain,
Boredom, anger, they all get consumed;
This girl, with the tear-stained face,
The countless scars on her body,
A picture of desolation, and isolation,
Any person can see she’s isolated,
She may be a messenger, a portrayer,
She could be the messiah.
Those scars on her skin, they may mark,
They mark how sorry some lives really are,
Although they have nothing to be sorry for,
A terrible time has past,
It shows on her scarred body,
It shows how hurt she has been before,
But she is hurting others, others she knows,
Best friends and acquaintances, both get hurt,
So much so she cannot see the pain on his face,
She is truly happy now, she can’t be a messiah.
She was sent a valentine, with a note from him,
She only knows now how she’s breaking his heart,
The scars, when he sees them, he’s hurting inside,
The pain he goes through, every time one is revealed.
Its really hard for him, so she hurts, and cries,
It’s a circle, and her face is tear-stained again,
A time now comes, no thought for herself,
Although her arms fling around his neck,
But this only shows that he, is hers, her messiah.
