A million tiny paper cuts,
From a thousand little stars.
These little superficial ruts
Can leave the deepest scars.
All these little wishes, all these outlandish schemes
Written down on them don't matter.
Especially when all their hopes and dreams
Fall from the sky and shatter.
A hundred shards of glass disguised
Like ice beneath the snow,
Lead to many a heart's demise
And cut deeper than you know.
So be wary not of wounds you see,
Though they too I feel,
The ones that leave no mark on me
Take much more time to heal.