Scissors

I am stepping on the scissors

That are piercing into my skin

And their silvers my reflection

At their edge I begin

Its more painful than it's foretold

At first and then it grows old

As pain unravels down my leg

Crimson red desperate fate

Does it seem unrealistic?

To dream of things not to simplistic

To live a life out from the shadows

To expose what I try to push out

No one knows the things I've been through

Seen the life I've lived in cryptic solitude

My everything is different from you

Can't you see the embers thriving?

In the fire my bloods reviving

Twisted scars belonging solely

To the holder of this knife