scratch
scratch
scratch
blood slowly starts to seep
it seems to help

perfect knife on ugly skin
makes me forget the state I'm in
but makes me remember
the ache
sharp and stinging scratch
I forget my thoughts
I know only my hurt
the blood doesn't heal it
only makes it worse
but then I can finally feel it
I can let myself be free
from ideas of perfection
of what I will never be

so when I put on my face in the morning
nobody needs to know
the ache and the blood
are my secret
I don't need to share
the worst of the pain is loneliness
but I like to think I don't care

[yeah guys don't ask, i'm over it but it's still my secret ok?]