Unwritten

Looking in the mirror The reflection you see Is not what you desire. But the status quo lets you know That once you are It's all you ever will be... Your pen is sharp And mightier than a sword. It still cuts deep to penetrate Your trigger of release. In that moment of pain Somehow you find a sense of twisted peace... Someday when you are sober No longer drunk on numbness; You will see that no sleeves are long enough To hide your chiseled limbs... I pray that you will see That knives, scissors and razors Do not have erasers. Their red ink never fades away And years from now When you wish to forget The scars will never let you... So while you stare At your blank canvas, contemplating; While your fists clutch a quill, Remember you are the author of your story. You can decide when a chapter ends And what things are better left unwritten...