You don't get to

Tell me how to

Act in control of my

Action speak louder than

Words hurt more than physical

Pain, is just an accomplice of

Life is all but survival

of the fittest.

Bruised knuckles and scarred skin

You say I should get help, but you

Should look in the mirror more

Often you say I'm only a burden

Since I can't control my

Outbursts are only a statement of my

Inability to cope, thanks

to you.

I grip at the skin on

My chest, hurts

The pain is too much

Too handle this I go

Insane according to

You don't see between the lines

on my thighs.

The walls in my room are

Broken, my mind, ripped

Fragments in the millions, hiding

Tainted memories I try to

Forget- I can't, thanks

to you.