Soon I’ll spread my wounded wings and fly away.
Far away from this world,
With it’s cookie cutter scars.
And it’s pain.
Far away from everyone who can never understand.
They only know it hurts them.
They don’t realise that it’s killing me.
Every time you hurt,
I continue to slowly die.
I’m already long gone,
There’s nothing you can do.
I’m sorry.
Every time I bleed.
It’s so I can go on pretending,
For one more day.
With every drag of the blade.
I get a little relief.
From this never ending pain.
But it’s not enough.
And it won’t last.
I don’t have enough room.
To release all the pain.
With my body as my canvas,
It’s hopeless.
The blade to me,
Is as an artist’s brush, to him.
I get the same relief,
The same pleasure.
From my masterpiece.
But it won’t last.
The artist has the whole world,
To paint.
But I have so little room,
To find my release.
If the bikini doesn’t cover it,
I’m screwed.
If they see it,
I’m screwed.
It’s over,
They thought it was over,
3 months.
All gone now.
But I can’t tell them,
Not after the last time.
They can’t forgive me again.
I can’t forgive me again.
But will they forgive me when I’m gone?
How much longer will it be?
How much longer will I be alone?
And I’m,
So
Sorry.
Please,
Don’t cry for me.
