Open wounds,
Scars and cuts,

Broken bones,
and misplaced trust,

I want to yell,
but yet I yield,

and stare at my wounds unhealed.

Upon you I thrust,
Just waiting to bust,

Upon you I place my hopes,
My last little trust.

My head continues to rush,
The blood continues to gush,

I lay and stare,
Do I dare?

I am willing to do anything,
If it means getting away,
Away from here.

I pick it up,
But then I think: