Too many to count

My arms are so full of scars,

There is no more room on my canvis.

So i find other places to show my story.

My legs, my stomache.

Soon those will be filled and i will be my story.

Each scar a diffrent word,

Each scar a diffrent whisper.

After i run out of space, i look for more.

Open old scars, Create many of small ones.

Soon i am fully coverd my face now is full.

The place left i have saved for last,

My neck.

With that blade i slice the vein,

The blood spills out fast.

As i slip away i count my scars,

But there are too many to count.