You now go through another heartbreak,
and you sadly choose your own fate.
You cut to try to make it hurt less,
but it only made it hurt, with even more regret.
The scars on your arms remind you of the bad memories, but
never the good.
Then you cut once again, because of what you miss.
Blood flows down your arm,
along with regret.
You cry every night, and wish it would end,
but you have tried and tried again,
and the same result comes, along with dread.
You say your over it,
but your really not.
I can see it in your eyes, that you fill with thought,
of every lie that you once believed,
every memory of what has been.
It ends again as you find another.
But yet the cycle of regret repeats,
as soon as you move on and leave.
You keep it a secret as a sign of relief,
but the scars are to stay, and come once again.
As dread walks among your mixed up head.
