Looking in the mirror
The reflection you see
Is not what you desire.
But the status quo lets you know
That once you are
It's all you ever will be...

Your pen is sharp
And mightier than a sword.
It still cuts deep to penetrate
Your trigger of release.
In that moment of pain
Somehow you find a sense of twisted peace...

Someday when you are sober
No longer drunk on numbness;
You will see that no sleeves are long enough
To hide your chiseled limbs...

I pray that you will see
That knives, scissors and razors
Do not have erasers.
Their red ink never fades away
And years from now
When you wish to forget
The scars will never let you...

So while you stare
At your blank canvas, contemplating;
While your fists clutch a quill,
Remember you are the author of your story.
You can decide when a chapter ends
And what things are better left unwritten...