Odd, it feels so strange
On my wrist and my leg, scars that I made
Think I should hate them, but it may sound crazy
I find them beautiful, don’t want them to fade
They are a part of me, been that for years
Although underneath all kind of things, I hide them away
When I’m alone I don’t do that no more
They’ll be there, forever, anyway
Sometimes it even feels
I cut myself, only for the scars I know will appear
Now saying this, sounds really crazy
But I can’t help it, and I do fear
Fear the fact they will always be here
Even when I no longer cut myself like I still do now
Maybe I’ll then have regrets, or feel ashamed of what I did
And want them to go away, not knowing a way how
I do feel ashamed of my scars right now
I hide them, and refuse to let anyone see
But I can’t keep lying and hiding them forever
Have to accept they are a part of me
I started to think about all this
After meeting a nice guy last night
Thinking about what he would say if he knew
I did these things, he wouldn’t think it’s right
Scared people would dislike me for doing this
A couple of friends are already doing this to me
Like I became some sort of weird crazy girl
And my problems seems to be all they can see
I wonder, do they really care?
Or do they see me as their duty to help a fellow human being
Because real friendship, I can’t call it that
I don’t know them, and my bad sides is all they are seeing
Thankfully they’re some other people
Who accept me for who I am, and not changing a bit
Still making me a part of their lives
And I have to say, I’m very grateful for it
I know he sometimes doesn’t know what to do
When I tell him certain things, and doesn’t understand
But I know he’s still there for me
Whenever I need a hand
Me actually asking for help
That’s not likely, but that’s my fault, not his
My stubbornness and guilt I feel
Make me think I should be going alone through this
But well, I had to write this down
Sometimes I really can’t make any sense
Of all the thoughts inside my mind
And they can get quite intense
So I need to let my thoughts out
Even if they make no sense at all
It is my way, a better way, of finding some rest
If I don’t, I’m afraid someday I will fall