Hey sorry guys :P Here ya go

Cuts, Bruises and Scars

The knife looked dull at first. Before I picked it up. The bruises they don't bother me because they're covered up. The scars are faded memories of days I almost died. The pain is just a memory, my crying is a lie. They may have beat my body, until I'm bleeding red. I may have lay there dying, but I'm not really dead. I went to school and struggled, to keep up with my lies. I heard their voices in my head, and still I didn't cry. I may not have the strength to stop the cuts and bruises and scars. Let them be a memory, of how I haven't died. So I wish for all of you to see. That those cuts and bruises and scars. Are what make you beautiful. So please, please, don't cry.

Hi. My name is Allen Walker and I am 16 years old. That thing you just read is actually a poem I wrote myself. Not that anyone would care. I go to school at The Black Order, a high society school that has many people. I'm a sophomore here at this school with many "Friends." I'm not really sure anymore what I'm going to do. I mean yeah

I think that I could do things but… I'm not the kind of person to stand up and do something about it. I'm really just a lonely sad person that hides behind a mask that doesn't last. The mask I have on now is slowly breaking and the smile I'm faking is slowly wavering and now everyone seems to be able to read my emotions. I'm slowly spiraling out of control and I can't hold on to the railing.

I need something to hold on to, I need someone to hold me, I need somewhere I can be safe. I pray and pray and pray for the pain to go away but it hasn't happened yet because I'm still here and upset. The world is full of darkness now and when there is light it never comes around but that's okay because I'm blind anyway forever trapped in the darkness and despair.

The walls of my world are all tumbling down and now the remains end up on the ground but I guess that's the way it was going to be in my city of my greatest fear. Me. Yup that's my greatest fear. Who am I that I could wish to fly so high yet I have never seen the sky whether it be day or night. I have no pain. Just the pain in my chest but I'm used to that already.

These are my thoughts as I walk the halls of Black Order high, heading towards one of my least favorite classes. Social studies. I have history with Lavi, Lenalee and Miranda and that's all good but of course I have to be sitting by Yuu Kanda, the stoic samurai that always has a sword.

He always calls me Moyashi, and it ticks me off. He also knows that I write things in my notebook that aren't really for school. Yeah I write but not that often. I rarely have time anymore with how much Cross, my guardian, beats me. That poem you read?

That was one referring to me I guess. I wrote it in my tattered black and gray notebook that everyone knows I carry around with me. Why would they care any way as long as I get good grades? They all think I'm innocent Allen that is always happy. Ha funny. On the outside I am.

I sighed right before I walked into the classroom then put on my usual "smile" and walked in. I walked over to my seat and sat down, pulling out my black and gray notebook and starting to write a new poem. Kanda sneered at me. "Hey Moyashi? What are you writing? Something as girly as your face looks?"

I sighed quietly to myself so that he couldn't hear then I turned and smiled at him. "Look who's talking. With that long hair and girly face, I'm surprised they didn't send you to the girls dorm on the first day." He gaped at me and I turned away. Okay so not entirely true.

He was the hottest guy in school and he definitely had a defined face but he did have long hair though it complemented him quite well. The teacher droned on about something that involved math and that's when I had another idea for a poem….

My Words, What they say

I may not know math, or chemistry, of atoms or ions or more, but when I have a pen in hand, I create much more. I write my true feelings, words I wish I would say, my pain is in slashes and lines, and maybe someday, I'll give them away, but for now, my dear notebook is mine. So if you wish to see, the real, deep down, true me, then steal my notebook away. But until that day, when you steal away, my feelings and my thoughts, I'll keep writing words to you, that I wish I could say, for if I did then maybe, you might fall in love with me. Because sadly for me, when you're around me, I have nothing intelligent to say.

I saw Kanda out of the corner of my eye. Crap. I think I may be in love…..