by Carla O., 14
Controlling the feelin’ of healin’ with this unappealin’ scar.
But the memory of it goes far.
Almost like a melody that we played on an untuned guitar,
I feel the hate that resonates deep inside my soul,
No not hate, not hate of this desolate hole.
We thought it was under control, but my body no longer was a whole.
Unable to take this pain flowin’ through my veins.
We quit, and I admit we were hypocrites.
Like a tornado on a sunny day, all I did was wait till the waves came back to bay.
Initiating this negotiate, unable to collaborate.
Pinned against our fate, that we cannot escape.
The smile on our faces, no longer in good shape.
And like a snake you were, I was the prey, reshaped.
Repeating our fleetings until I can run from this mistreating.
Making it work, going completely berserk.
Too much for us to handle; why don’t we just burn out this dying candle?
And like a celebrity, I can’t catch your lip sync.
Slurred all I did was inferred, unable to fix it.
I admit, we were hypocrites.
Because this scar that I carry is scary,
And involuntary.
Bridge Ink 