Wounded

Disclaimer: I don't own Sasuke, and this is just something random I wrote from hearing the line "razor blades doesn't make angels".

Razor blades doesn't make angels, so I have learned. I tried so hard, I put my heart and my soul into it. But yet again I failed. So I turned to the only solution I knew, someway I had to get ride of the pain, the pain you caused me. Ever since "that" happened, nightmares have been haunting my dreams, and at day I can't seem to trust anyone.

Everyone is too bright, to cherry. The colours stings my eyes, I'm so used to the blackness that I can't tolerate colours, they blind me and makes me crave even more for that I can't get.

I can't kill you, even if I hunt you to the end of the world and back you will still be able to beat me back down again. I can never rise from my crunched position, I'm too weak. They who say I'm a genius are so wrong. Geniuses doesn't cry themselves to sleep, they don't hug their pillows tight, wishing for someone to be there for them.

But I can't let anyone in; I'm too fragile and ready to break. In fact I think I've already broken down. I guess the scars I hide are proof enough. Ever wondered why the great avenger Uchica Sasuke wear those weird "armwarmes", the reason is simple because my arms are covered with thin scars from razorblades.

I hurt myself, to take away the tension from all the pain that lies inside. The pain that is like a never healing wound. Constantly it's there to remind me of my past, my present and my future. It's an addiction and an obsession; I've tried a million times to stop. I tried to be the perfect one, the one everybody thinks I am. But I aint no angel, my wings were cut long time ago. And you left me there bleeding on the floor, crawling in my parents' blood, my tears and your hatred. You broke a child, hell you broke everything, you crushed the whole world around me. And it's never going to be all right again. It's hurting all the time; I barely even sleep because of the nightmares. I'm scared, scared that anyone will find out, scared of you; I'm even scared of myself. What if I cut to deep…

Do I really want to live?

What if I want to.

And I realise that to soon…

Will you be there to help me?

Lost and broken,
Hopeless and lonely.
Smiling on the outside,
and hurt beneath my skin.

My eyes are fading,
My soul is bleeding.
I'll try to make it seem okay,
But my faith is wearing thin.

And I need someone to help me,
So you come along,
I push you away,
Then kick and scream for you to stay.
Cuz I need someone to help me,
Oh I need someone to help me,
To help me heal these wounds,
They've been open for way too long.
Help me fill this soul,
Even though this is not your fault…

Wounded – Good Charlotte