fighting a losing battle.

To hold, if i should dare. Oh, wounded warriors These scars we carry, represent every silent battle, we've fought. How blade comforted us Marks that we left on our bodies, deadly we found comfort in that. we became enigma to the world. how we wished we could have people to tech us, how to handle pain without us slashing our skins. the pain only seen, if they look deep inside our eyes. A ghostly haunting of battles lost. that nearly made us their own. To hold, if i should dare. Oh, wounded warriors So, lay down, your heavy heart. Let it rest in grasses, tall. To numb the pain, we looked at ourselves bleed. The therapy we found using blades, the pleasure known only by us. Scars that we don't regret, Because somehow they numbed our pain. slash ,slash we went against our skin. how we wished they stop us. how grief turned to be our friend. To them ,the grave is dark and strange. By to us,our hearts became dark and strange. We screamed to be heard, How it felt, fighting a losing battle with our souls. Our screams turned quiet, voices that only wanted to be spared from the race that kills our souls, And leads us to this dark hole, That comforts us.