Scratches on my wrist, I itch.
Blood on my knuckles, I chew them.
Blisters on my palms, I work too much.
Welts on my fingers, I grabbed a rope.
Scrapes on my arms, I fell.
Slashes on my skin, I walked into a bush.
Burns on my shoulders, I fell asleep in the garden.
Sunlight in my eyes, an excuse for why I cry.
Midnight in my soul, the place they never look.
Pain on my heart, he took it with him.
Holes in my throat, his mouth on mine,
sweet release from this world.
Holes in my throat, blood does flow,
all his to live for.