Cuts and Scars

These scars on my arm remind me of the time when you ran my life.
The scars are a painful curse,
but a blissful serenity.
With a painful memory come to soft cut.
My arms may flow with blood so red,
but you wouldn't care if I wind up dead. You say you care,
but you lied.
I always hide my pain inside.
My scars on my past and will ever last.
With every cut, I lose myself.
With all the pain, I cry to myself why.
I always feel my pain in my veins on the inside.