Some days she can convince herself she's not there, or it can be the world convincing her.
She's has no clue why she loves her scars, wanting to make them permanent,
but the manipulation from the world pulls her way.
Making her fall off the cliff.
The blood runs down her skin,
but she's not completely satisfied.
She knows it's all she has to hold onto when she's falling,
The empty spaces on her skin taunts her,
forcing her to fill the spaces and the scars that have healed,
She needs to feel the same on both the inside and outside,
She feels like there's something wrong with her,
which pulls her toward the cliff,
she can't think straight anymore,
her mind build, and builds, and builds with memories of the world surrounding her,
"Where do I belong?"
"Do I belong anywhere?"
"I should escape."
And it's black,
even the eulogies,
reminding the world to just listen.