Sobbing as the antique clock strikes midnight,
Silent tears on their journey to the bedroom floor,
Candle flickering, at the open window,
Casting evil shadows on the fastened door,
Shadows that reach out and grab you,
Their fingers sharp, tear through your skin,
Releasing dying anger, bottled up inside you,
Relieving you from this life of sin.
The tears end, the pain begins,
As they beat your face and slash your limbs,
Blood thickens blotting out deep sorrows,
Diverts your mind from demon things.
A being above you frowns upon you,
Like so many others have to you before,
Hurtful names and abusive games,
Fail to upset you anymore,
You hate yourself, you hate them too,
Its all your fault, its you to blame,
Something you said caused those arms to run red,
And those scars will never fade.
So when they ask you in the morning,
How your feeling, make it the last time,
That you lie to your friends and those who really do care,
When you say 'It was the shadows fault, not mine.'