|What is there left to say,|
That you don't understand?
That you likely never will?
Do you have any idea,
Of what its like to be torn?
This pain is real.
Symbolised, by a still bleeding scar.
Be still, don't go,
Don't leave me to consume myself.
Theres and acean in my blood,
Filled with the tears of a child.
The world is no longer,
As I see it in shades of crimson.
So hate me, if thats what you want.
Like a rock I am,
I don't feel the surface pain.
Only those deep enough to hide.