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...