Every night she passes the blade to add a new scar to her collection. She cries but not by the pain of the wounds, but the pain in her heart. She calls for help but nobody answers. She's on her own she always were. She hopes one night she's careless enough to hit a vein and fall asleep forever.
If my wrists could tell a their feelings,
I wonder what they would say,
That they've been abused so long,
They are not used to no pain,
If my wrists could tell a story,
It would be one told aroun campfires,
To scare both young and old,
More than ghosts or vampires,
If my wrists inspired a movie,
It would be rated R,
Cuz you dont want to know,
The story behind each scar,
If my wrists could paint a picture,
It would be sliver, red, and white,
One that you could stare at for hours,
Yet give shivers at first sight,
If my wrists could write a song,
It would be an Instrumental,
That few could ever listen to,
It could turn the h