The scars on my arm represent a story,
Maybe not to youâ€&brvbar...

I hate you more than words can express.
I wish had never met you, and gotten into this...

When you walked out the door,
I told myself I wouldn't cry anymore...

The tears are rolling down fast now,
She knows she has to escape somehow...

Time is running out,
You must hurry, you must race...

I hate you,
I hate everything that has and can be...

Who is that girl I see?
She has a broken heart...