There'll always be bruises
nestling in soft hollows of skin
spreading out across milky whiteness
in rainbow colours of pain.

There'll always be razor-lines
red, and black with blood
solidifying to red and white markings
warpaint on a broken shell.

There'll always be burns
shiny and brightened hard
stretching over tender flesh
denuded of humanity.

There'll always be pain
and methods of coping with it
melting the will
playing fairy-like across the skin.

You think
I'll never find out
What you whisper
What you question
That I am so stupid
That I am so odd
What are the scars?
Is she a cutter?
They'll never tell
Maybe I will
But you'd never say anything
Not to my face
Not to the scar
On my face

Enough with
Pre-judging prejudice
Certain lies
My will to exist
His accusations
My imagination
All nations refuse to commit
Suicide
The one I idolized
Never really lived
Did this all cause
The slits on my wrists?
(Stop calling, you bitch)

All I wanted was a puppy dog
Someone there for me
Since no one ever was
Now there's a heart attack
But is there any more love?
Stupid "punk" bands
Perfect eyebrows and hands
And all that I wished
Did this all cause
The slits on my wrists?
(Stop calling, you bitch)

Shes down there again
Clasped to the ceiling
Holding on for precious life
With every intention to fall

Shes free again
Locked in a cold room
Tainting steel with crimson life
Staining herself with death

Shes alone again
Surrounded by faces
Bound and raped
She gives herself away

Shes starving herself again
Breaking from her cage
Fragments of her former self
She barely casts a shadow

Shes disappeared again
The little girl forever lost
Always running, in pursuit of her life
Sand between her fingers