• Writing this down
    I know where to begin,
    It still makes me shake
    When I'm burning my skin.
    But I hate the tears
    They taste so bitter to me,
    Without this suppression
    These tear drops break free.

    So I'll pull out my lighter
    Let the flames fly,
    When the metal is burning
    My skin cells will die.
    And in their descent
    To the bottom of hell,
    Those bitter tears
    Get dragged down as well.

    But there are the scars,
    Stuck there for life.
    Constant reminders
    Of all of the strife.
    I will stop for some time,
    Ashamed of my burns,
    But I'm full of anguish
    And the urge will return.