My hand, yes it hurts
but my mind hurts more.
Why do I write you ask?
Because I can't go back to how I was before.
I can't afford to be that girl
Who feels the need to end it all.
And I'm afraid to go back there
to my dark room with built up walls.
I can't go back to the dark days and darker nights.
I can't hold this in, and that is why I write.