Ash glows red, free flowing scar tissue
Blackened sticks, tips burning out in your closed hand
Can you please stop? I'm begging you for the Nth time
Don't you see my scars on display, waiting for the They don't look like cat scratches
Every flame snuffed out in your hand weakens my resolve
Fighting back the urge to scream out every last secret in your smug face
Good thing people are watching, or I'd have just given in
Hooray, it was too much to resist, for the first time in almost a year
I've lit that match, heated metal to the burning point
Just a plea for attention, because it's not possible that I might really have a problem
Keeping my wax blacked nail file out of sight, out of mind
Letting imagination direct the metaphorical smoking gun
Masochism or insanity, 2nd degree burns still objecting to body warmth
Now I wonder why I stopped, to keep it a secret or something more
Obviously not objectionable, this feeling of the slow smoldering away of my reality
Pain bared as witness, a badge of courage
Questionable life experience, nothing completely explained
Right or left hand path choices neither clearly marked
Still, I could stop if I wanted to
The question is, Do I want to?
Unavoidable questions that need answers
Voyeurism in ink, surreptitiousness painted across the silver screen
Who are you to treat me like that, you knew and you didn't give a damn
Xyleneic anger at the world for treating me as leper, for only caring once I asked for help
You had your chance, to help me, you ignored me, triggered me, broke me and left me
Zenith point (inversed) because I'm done listing to you, done pretending it's all ok.