The marks you left inside of me, br those cannot be seen. br br These marks, though, br the ones I give myself br are visible. br br Angry red lines- br as I pour my soul into the bathroom sink. br These are the marks you make. br br Death could be the answer br but what would it achieve? br You would not see, or even grieve. br br I could die today br or anytime I choose, br but why bother? br br You killed me already. br All that I am now is the shell br that has somehow survived. br br You put me through this hell br but I will stay alive.