On your fabric,
The lines bleed asymmetric.
For every word left unsaid,
Flows from within a portion of your red.
The scars may heal,
But the pain forever you’ll feel.
With a needle that thin,
Go ahead Darling…
Ruin your skin.
On your fabric,
The lines bleed asymmetric.
For every word left unsaid,
Flows from within a portion of your red.
The scars may heal,
But the pain forever you’ll feel.
With a needle that thin,
Go ahead Darling…
Ruin your skin.