The blood on my hands.

The blood on my hands are because of mistakes. For every mistake I add a scar to my arm. With every scar I get blood stains on my hands. I thank the people who insult me. They showed me pain is an escape. I sit in my little dark corner with my razor in my hand. My radio so loud no one hears me. I cry in pain. The blood sliding down my arm. Leaving a trail of blood. Falling to my hands. Staining them with the cold blood. I have tears streaming down my face. Another mistake, Another scar, Stained hands all over again. The room is dark, The music loud. Nothing to do but cry, And lie...