I'll treat these scars as souvenirs...

Each one as a reminder of every dark road ever riden.

Excuses and lies are they not the same thing?

What do you see?

Do you see her tears hidden behind her big brown eyes
Do you see her scars hidden well underneath her clothes
Do you see her pain trembling inside her broken body

Do you see anything?

I've learned to fake a smile.
I've learned to fake a laugh.
I've learned to fake happiness.

But you've yet to learn that I'm fake

I know no difference between right and wrong

Tomorrow is never better
It only gets worse

I am to blame for how i am, no more putting the fault on others. I'm taking responsibility for my actions and living with the consequences

When you're stuck in the middle how do you know which way to go?
How do you know which way is right and which way is wrong?
And what happens if you make the wrong choice?

Is it wrong to question my existence?

People always said, " Sticks ad stones may break my bones but words will never hurt." If that's true then why did the words you say hurt me so much?