This is the price I paid
This is the cup I drank out of
Nobody can take the blame
For what I did
No one can save me from
Falling out of grace
A deep scar above my arm
Is all that it took
And with it, my conscience shook
Until I realized that my life
Was falling apart
Crumbling like the walls
Of a house
And then, it all came tumbling down

This is the price I paid
This the cup I drank out of
I used to think that I could
Do whatever I want without
Hurting anybody, but I was wrong
A deep scar about my arm
Is all that it took
And with it, my conscience shook

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Hmm...a lot of poems about cutting. This poem is okay to me. Lately though, I've been getting frusterated with myself because it seems that ALL of my poems are about the same thing...eh.

Mucho love,
Sapphire