Why am I forgotten, why am I not loved; no one has ever cared enough, never offered a hug.
I am shattered like the smashed glass on the floor, each fragment a reflection of my face, a million pieces, a million more, a pain I see, a fake.
I see no end of sadness, the road before me unclear, one more cut on my arm, why not no one's here.
I wake up in the morning, blankets stained now with blood, every cut begins to heal, though my heart still tangled and twisted around in barbed wire, painful, burn the veins out with fire.
I wish my life would be left up to chance, will I live or die, a coin flipped, a coin lands, its sound carved into my brain.
I cannot win this war, myself killing myself, a person who cared, and a person who came with a heart stronger than a thousand swords.
Me not caring at first, they listened to me, they spoke firmly, and they spoke some sense into me. This life wasn't over; I'd deserved a second chance, I found my solid ground, a clear field, a gentle pasture of happiness and romance.
Though it was not easy, it took a simple friend, to say that I was beautiful, and it was not the end.
It took a simple friend to say that Jesus was the Savior of man. I gave my cuts to him that day and what a hard time it has been. I gave my blood to Christ that day, and I have found peace through his pain, the nails driven through his wrists, cut through his own veins. He has spilled his blood for me, no need to spill my own. Say God, come into my life, make me, shape me, take me home.