So I sit here, just staring at my scars.
I wonder why they haunt me so much.
Maybe it's because I still feel the same as I did when I made them.
Maybe it's because I know they are a part of me.
Every time I notice that they've faded a little more,
It scares me.
It gives me the feeling that I need to create more,
But at the same time, I know I can't.
All the drama created by just a couple slits,
It's so hard to think, is it really worth it?
All the concealer rubbed, all the bracelets stolen,
All the sweatshirt days, and all the excuses made.
Is it really worth it?
In a cutters mind, of course it's worth it.
It's the only way to live, right?
So what happens next?
What happens, when someone else you know starts?
A good friend, you know, someone you could see getting in too deep.
I know I have to help, try to stop it before it really starts.
She just doesn't understand because she hasn't lived that life.
I know it's tough to teach and try to convince her,
But really, why should she listen,
When she knows, I can't even convince myself.
