as i walk around people stare
they dont know me
i could care less
so what if i have a lip ring eye ring black hair and cuts on my body
who cares if i wear long sleeves and jeans all year long
as i start to carve, my skin breaks
like you broke my heart
the blade slices deep into my wrist
blood drops
a tear drops
one down lots to go
thats what you said
but i dont care anymore
why should i
why should they
day after day
cut after cut
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem