Criss-=//=-Cross
-=//=- The criss-cross jagged lines, Are supposed to represent my life at the fullest. I pick it up, and put it back down again... It's my choice, what will I choose? I press it against my skin. I see life flickering through the tiny droplets of blood, that trickle from this open wound. A broken heart, a wasted life, a forgotten mind. To me, it's all the same. I hear the scream inside of me. I feel the pain drip out of me. Who's fault is it? Why did I do it? What's wrong with me? Cutting so deep. Trying to look for answers, burried in my wrist. Like a treasure, I can't wait to find. Where will I go? Who will I turn to? I go to my blade... I turn to my skin... This choice is easily made. Cut me up. Spill my dreams on the floor. Make me cry. With a smile on your face, and do it again, like it's no big deal. Hurt me. Use me. Yell at me. With a smile on your face... happy to be doing it. Like it's simply no big deal... My life... Is wasted. Written January 28th, 2002 © on Mar 01 2002 03:33 PM PST 18 • 0 • 1
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