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last cut.
broken pieces crumbling inside my palm,
and I was too tired to even give a damn
but as i felt the blood spilling through my hands,
the colour so beautiful yet misery written upon them
though long ago, the tears have been shed,
but the pain from the wounds still hasn't left
and as for the sorrows that we have deciphered,
were too painful to even remember
grief, repentance and regret is all what we have,
to cherish those memories that were too depressing to laugh at,
years later, i still remember the scars from the razor
that i used to hide in the back pocket of my blazer.
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