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Lost Soul absently muddling through the mundane, trying to piece together the shattered fragments of a broken life, to rebuild myself anew, though this time to be true to me, to who I am. Not some hollow shell of what others oppressed me to be.
I've been lost - beaten - broken - abused... I've survived...
To survive I would cut - to punish myself - to punish others
To feel pain - To feel ANYTHING...
The blood soothed me, it's colour, scent, texture calmed my screaming soul...
I have survived & my survival method left me with scars & a new desire... Or maybe it's an old desire which has woken up?