The Origin of These Battle Marks

You're so nonchalant, aren't you?
The way you answer things in your happy, smiling way.
Have the whole wide world thinking you're a little angel
but I've ripped that mask off you time and time again.

You left me various wounds, all still showing,
From the staples in my heart to the carvings in my hands.
The injured shoulder that still pinches,
the unwavering fear of trusting anyone completely,
and the various scars on my legs,
the fuzziness from smashing my head into walls,
and even the puncture wounds that threatened to take the life of my talent.

All of them, deep down, were either caused by or brought to by you or thoughts of you


I was a mess when I still had the thoughts
that maybe some day, maybe some day
we'd be back together or atleast be friends forever,
but I see that you can't be close to anyone.

And don't blame your past,
Fuck, have you looked into my past?
Have you seen my demons?
Yes, but like you'd even give it a second look.

I stand before everyone,
Arms outstretched yet the eyes,
The eyes so full of pain, so full of hate
From all that has done me wrong,
From you.

I wish you would burn for this
I wish there was one way you could figure out what you did to me.
And I hope that when karma comes back around and kicks your ass,
You'll break down and remember what you did to me.

What you did to me.