Pain Didn't Ever Really Stop,

You Must Reach Inside Yourselves Where I Live Like A Story, Not Old, Not Young Laughing At My Own Sorrow, Weeping Pearls At Weddings, Wielding A Torch To Melt Sand Into Something Clear And Bright.

I Wanted Him To Hold Me, To Take Care Of Me. To Make The Pain Dissolve Away. I Know That This Was Part Of What Had Ruined Everything But I Wanted It Once More Anyway.

Sometimes A Wild Horse Needs To Feel That His Rider Is Just A Little Bit Wilder.

That Was When I Cut My Arms With A Razor Blade As A Means Of Creative Expression. I Only Did It Lightly, Just Grazing The Skin, To See The Way The Blood Would Bleed Out, To Make Myself Look Tougher. Not Like Some Of Those Kids Who Keep Going Deeper And Deeper, Wondering What They Look Like Down To The Bone, Because It's A World That's So Close And Yet So Far And So Dangerous And So Much Their Own. The Only World That Is Their Own.

It's Important To Tell Your Story. It's Important To Listen.