There’s a place for people like me,a place were scars are sweet memories of
bliss,
A place where fountains of crimson artworks on your body are beautiful,
A place where pain is better than feeling nothing at all, this place I call
home,
Away from the doctors who tell me it’s wrong, mutilation will kill you they
say,
But what if I’m already dead, emotionally,there’s nothing left to harm
inside,
They already killed me when they acted like they never cared,the closest
people
Turned their backs on me like I was a stray,but there is a place for people
like me,
A place where scars are sweet memories of bliss,a place where fountains of
Crimson artworks on your body beautiful,the place I call home is my hell,a
place
To suffer when your forced to live

 
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