Theres scars all over my arms
of were a knife sliced the skin
I remember just watching
as the blood trickled down my arm
at that moment I felt free
from my the prison I was in
Today they kid about it
about kids cutting their wrists
and it takes me back to the time
my wrists were always covered in blood
I'd hide in the bathroom or the closet
wore long sleeves to cover the cuts
I was yearning to die
Not really I just wanted the pain to go away
Cutting is an addiction
that slowly little by little eats you away
I thought I could control it
but there was that one time it went to deep
all because I was hurting on the inside
wishing to be loved
The scars on my wrists
they each have a story
but my once fine skin is now scared for life