Pics

I draw a pretty picture A picture on my wrist The picture keeps getting bigger Every time my feelings are dismissed Ты think the words don’t hurt me That the actions don’t cause me pain Ты think that if I smile I must be happy again I’m not going to blame it on Ты Because I know that its my choice But it only ever happens when Ты raise your voice I hear the screams and shouts And I reach out for the blade I do it without thinking Then I look at the mess I’ve made It looks ugly and it stings But it takes away the pain And the hurt Of all the other things I know you’ll tell me its wrong If Ты ever find out That’s why I keep my arms covered I don’t want Ты to scream and shout I keep my arms covered so no one else can see The scratches ive made on my arms There something that’s private to me.