Treasure Island

Brianna Mathis

(San Jose)

Scars


They are the scars of your past
Running it across
Drip, drip, drip
The fluid of your life
Run red
Run cold
Can't feel your pain
wanting to know if you're truely alive
There it goes
Running you drier eachtime
Red and tender
The ghost of your past
The thing that haunts you most
Rush ur hand across
A mountain of opened flesh
That's all you can feel
The only thing that you recognize
The only familiar kind of love
And you know that soon
When the time comes
It'll start all over again
Have your last look at your wrists
Sitting there
So dead and hollow
Saying your last goodbye
Itll happen soon
You promise Yourself

Submitted: Sunday, December 07, 2008
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