You don't get to
Tell me how to
Act in control of my
Action speak louder than
Words hurt more than physical
Pain, is just an accomplice of
Life is all but survival
of the fittest.
Bruised knuckles and scarred skin
You say I should get help, but you
Should look in the mirror more
Often you say I'm only a burden
Since I can't control my
Outbursts are only a statement of my
Inability to cope, thanks
to you.
I grip at the skin on
My chest, hurts
The pain is too much
Too handle this I go
Insane according to
You don't see between the lines
on my thighs.
The walls in my room are
Broken, my mind, ripped
Fragments in the millions, hiding
Tainted memories I try to
Forget- I can't, thanks
to you.