With bloodstains on my face
I continue to smile as if nothing was wrong
While my innocence was on display
The fate of all those who came before
Tracing the scars upon their backs
Like road maps to a place best forgotten
Nails and knives come penetrate
But the blood that flows is not that of Christ
There is no purity in this place that I have found
Surround myself in a blanket of lies
Trying to {?} myself to survive
But you cut right through my lovely lair
Looking only for pieces that you need
If I give you everything
You still wouldn’t have anything
Just a box of memories that you showcase to the world
To show that you have done more than you have
You’re just a razorblade shy of a suicide
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