The voices I hear bore through the sides of my skull. Burrow inside, and make themselves at home.

Their whispers cut like knives, I can't drown them out. Pull me to the garden where all the wicked rest.

In perfection, God put me here to hurt. Severed. 

Sing soft until my vision goes completely black. 

There's nothing here for me, I'm not going back.

RippingPullingTearing 

ScratchingPullingRipping 

Echoes of regret, anger and pain linger in my mind and whisper my name.

All the scars on my skin are all I'm worth.

One for selfishness, One for pride, And hundreds all over for every lie.