Lines

One line Two lines Three lines FOUR I'm sketching out my future And oh It's such a bore I see the ink smearing Across the tiny of paper, And I know I know This is my future And so much more But there is something I have noticed I have this all mixed up This is not a paper This is my wrist This is not a pen This is a blade And this Is not ink This is my blood So one line Two lines Three line Four I'm sketching out my past and oh its such a bore I can see my blood is smearing Across My tiny arm And I know I know, this is my past And so much more So the marks on my arm are not from the cat, They aren't from a door, And they aren't from the tree They are from this metal thing I hold between my fingers To decorate my arm With the proof I survived Another battle I made it One more day When u ask why The scars are on my wrists And the marks Are on my thighs I will only say This is my story Written on skin The story of how I made it past this war One line Two lines Three lines Four This is my story And so much more