I’m the one in the back who can’t be seen,
The one running rampant up and down the streets;
The one who’s never heard, the one who never speaks,
The one who is scarred just beneath the sleeves;
I’m not a beggar, not a bragger,
Just a sitter, I’m a sadder;
I’m the one who is not feared,
The one who quivers, shakes, and nears;
I’m not scared, just cold as death draw near.

My scars heal fast, they’re so discreet,
They hide and flee only known to me;
The cuts are where no one can find,
So my parents think I am fine;
No one suspects, nor will they decipher,
The inscriptions on my body are deep and striking like a viper;
Some people call me emo, some people call me psycho,
I call myself crazy and make more seams only I know;
I cannot focus, I am off topic,
The cuts and scars remind me to stop it;
I do not use blades, that is to easy,
My finger nails are long, bloody, and sleazy;
I’m good for nothing, fail at life,
Ask “my friends” ,they won’t lie;
If you were in my mind you’d be crazy too,
You’ve never even wondered why I’m so blue;
The reason I write is to get this out,
I need someone to tell me but I have my doubts.

There’s only one person who knows it from my perspective,
I tell her all except my scares, they are selfish;
Ashley Atkinsmith is her name,
She’s there and listens, neither judges nor blames;
She and I are one in the same,
We point no fingers, we have no shame;
We cut and scar our bodies together,
I just hope it doesn’t last forever;

Besides, in my head I would say I am normal,
Except what I say when things are formal;
When I’m in class I hear none of what the teachers say,
To overly focused on why “my friends” call me gay;
Trying to figure it out drives me insane,
Just makes me cut deeper to increase the pain;
I don’t tell them that it bothers me,
I just say it back as if a joke, “lol hehe”;
I think I hide it very well,
They do not suspect it, it’s so sad oh, well;
They may know or find out one day,
But for now I’m sad, hurt, and have nothing to say;

It’s so funny how the world thinks they know me,
But if I were to write my rhymes or read this story, they’d disown me;
It’s funny how you can lie straight to someone’s face,
Who says they can read you, but they never know what a disgrace;
I put on a mask of happiness each day,
Walking down the hallways the same exact way;

The world may hear or never know,
But I hope my story will be a show;
This is just a look into a life,
Of a boy who’s only true friend is a knife;
There is an army of people like me,
Just go on-line and look up Bvb;
So next time you look at a person and think, “what a freak",
I hope you’re compelled to think like me;
Although the end of this writing draw near,
I quake and quiver with no fear;
This may be the end of my elaborate story,
But I’ll always know there’s no one for me.