A Synthetic Soul

Life of Scars

I look at life as a written page,
And I need this knife to release my rage.
Cut by cut, slice by slice.
I guess it all depends on the roll of the dice.

It hurts so much, but I need this pain.
This is my life, but with nothing to gain.
It burns, it stings, inside I bleed.
But this thing I need to help me breathe.

To view the cut and achieve the rush.
And release the feelings of life and lust.

Night after night Ill grow another
scar of life, but hide it under
this type of life, like I know none other.
And never show you what I'm like down under it all.

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