My razors are trained to mark a surface

Every time I fall

it forces me to punish my skin

Remorse has proved to be a sadist

And I don't care at all

if people see the shape I am in



Day by Day

another conflict causes to cut the flesh

And if these wounds fail to show the truth

I got to cut even deeper



The scars are true art of expression

Signs of tragedy

With no doubt sick -but keeping alive

My way to let out all aggression

A different therapy

Possible with the blade of a knife



But I can't find my soul . . .