I see my blood run every where,
from my ripped up arm.
The knife lies at my side,
hard and cold in face.
My skin is healed,
my mind still hard.
Did he care ar all?
I see my blood run every where,
from my ripped up arm.
A person looks un-lovingly,
upon my misted face.
My body is dead,
my mind is not.
Did you care at all?