I don't think they realize

how staring at these walls

through blooshot eyes,

can slowly kill you.

You take so much in society

that it slowly eats away at your soul.

You begin to feel uncomfortabl 

in your own skin.

Once you see flaws,

changes begin to set in

that you have made.

You begin to write your story,

but not on paper with a pencil.

You write on your skin,

with a blade.

The next day you go to school.

Remember how no one was there for you

when you wrote your story,

now all of a sudden people start wanting to read it,

but judge it from the seam.