Isolation, fire and self-destruction,
Rain from the charcoal-shaded clouds,
An amber sky collapses in on itself,
Flooded with crimson as if all the angels have been executed.
You marked out my imperfections as clearly as graves,
Bullet-studded lettering spells "Here lies a failure, betrayer."
Anger and hatred are your only ways of proving yourself human,
Just like my cut wrists are the only emotion I know.
So tell me, whose fault is it today???
What is MY flaw in all this mire of rotting thoughts???
Today, am I a person or a tourniquet of blame-taking???
And would you even care for long enough to notice these scars_?