“How can you tell Im hurting if you cannot see my pain?
To wear it on my body tells what words cannot explain.”
My scars are stories, every one and of my life they speak.
The brokenness inside my eyes tells of my defeat.

The agony within my chest makes it hard to breathe
As you continue to tear me down, I begin to believe
That I am never good enough and never will I be
enough for you or anyone, I will never be free.

I hide myself from each of you and close off my broken heart,
I scrutinize myself and pick myself apart.
The harshest judge is me alone, I hate all that I am.
Inside of me my pain builds up, stopped, as if by dam.

I take the razor, press down the blade, and suddenly I feel
As if a weight is lifted up and life is much more real.
But is it worth the pain it costs to me and those I love?
I know the answer and it’s no, if it’s them that I think of.

So in my mind I will keep them, even when it hurts.
I know that I can make it through, To pain I won’t revert.