The teardrops run down and fall off her nose, she cries in dark corners where nobody goes, you can follow the tracks from her eyes to chin, years upon years of letting them win, and her eyes tell a story of anger and pain, you think she’s happy but just look again, and the scars of her past hidden under her clothes, are a roadmap to places that nobody knows, her smile is now painted she’s a master of disguise, and you can see it all, just look into her eyes.

(Source: illfuckwithyoursanity, via razor-blade-dream)

Anonymous asked: don't cut on your wrists! everybody looks there. but just don't cut at all.

I know, but no one will look at mine. They don’t care.