I look down and see these scars,
The ones you've left behind,
And I don't know what to say anymore.
Thanks for the goodtimes?
I hate you for the bad,
I was so confused it almost killed me?
Oh master of emotions?
You always were such a wordsmith,
Find me something smart to say.
I look down at myself and I see you,
Smiling like a saint,
Screaming like a madman,
Holding me like no tomorrow,
And pushing me away like I was yesterday's trash.
I can still hear your lies,
Still taste the liquor we shared,
And I can still hear the sound of your breath
The catch in your throat when my skin broke for you.
These scars are trophies,
To never let you find me again.
They're a roadmap back to agony,
To a life I'd never look back to.
They are a scrapbook
To the best time of my life,
When I was so afraid, so in pain
And so at home that to look back,
Can bring me to tears.
So these scars...
They're not mine,
Something you gave to me,
A warning, a reminder,
Maybe the only tangible thing we ever had together.
And the only thing left.