I swear my skin was innocent
yet I made it pay for my sins,
Coz I considered the wounds in my heart more painful
then these mere injuries on my skin.

These scratches reminds me of days
when I was facing things alone,
I wanted a shoulder for support
But it felt like everything was gone.

I was frustrated enough to shout
I legit wanted to yell,
I don't know if those days passed
Or I became habitual to hell.

I could have told things to anyone,
But I was afraid if they'll understand.
Hence, I started talking to myself,
Accompanied by that blood drop on my hand....