These are the things…

These scars are self-inflicted,

I made them long ago,

Back when I wasn’t wanted,

How I survived, I don’t know.

Every scar has a story to tell,

How I’ve suffered and bled,

I know that feeling so well,

As each single tear was shed.

Somehow I managed to live,

Getting through each day,

I gave more then I could give,

And I’m still giving today.

Though giving does hurt me so,

I still do it for I have a dream,

Will it come true? I don’t know,

The future is still dark it seems.

It’s not easy revealing all these,

Because it really hurts you see,

But the true reason is this:

These are the things that make me, me.