My Life

I hate my life, it's controlled by a knife.
I look at my arms, they're covered with scars.
I see a girl her arms are bare, she Carries on with her life without a care.
She's perfect, she has no flaws.
Me; I'm imperfect, and a lost cause.
She'll never knew real pain, me; I live it over and over again.
She doesn't have someone crushing her heart till she can't breath, I just wish someone would let go of mine to give me some relief.
If she died a lot of people would care, me; if I was standing right in front of them they wouldn't even know I was there.
When she smiles she's not hiding any inner pain, when I smile it breaks my heart again.
Because I know it's not real and it never will, it's just another emotion I wish I could kill.
If it wasn't there I wouldn't cry, if it wasn't there I wouldn't have a reason to die.
That girl has never known what tears are, she'll never know that pain that causes that first scar.
The girl I see, is the girl I used to be...
Before my heart was shattered, tattered and crushed beyond repair, I want to be this girl again but I can't with all this despair.