Go Fourth.

This is my 4th posting today.

Something's made me sad. I've so much to type, but I won't. Misery needs no scaffolding.
I could go on if I wanted to, but I won't.

Taken from http://turn-to-flames.tripod.com/id51.html :

† † † † scars † † † †

You see my soul, it's kind of gray.

You see my heart, you look away.

You see my wrist, I feel your pain.

You know my cheeks aren't wet from rain.

Though it's been awhile now I can still feel so much pain.

Like the knife that cuts you, the wound heals.

But the scar, that scar remains.

Have you ever been hurt and the place tries to heal a bit,

and you just pull the scar off of it over and over again.

When will people understand that words can cut as sharply as any blade, and that
those cuts leave scars upon our souls?

Not all scars show. Not all wounds heal.

Sometimes you can't see, the pain someone feels.

I drew the blade across my wrist to see how it would feel.
I looked into the future, there was nothing to reveal.

If I could take a knife and cut off every part of me that I hate..

there'd be nothing left.

Scars are wisdom in disguise.

Maybe my face will lose these scars

Cause sometimes they keep me home at night

Where I duck under the covers

And wince when I see the light

Give me a box of pushpins so everytime I cry I can pin my lonely picture to
the wall and fill my room with my pain and sorrows, until one day, when there's
no room left, I'll pin them to where the pain is really coming from...my heart..

I've got the scars to prove that love has had its day and way with me.

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Lovely poem. Despondency at its fluent best.