(i)
how those tentative fingertips trembled
as they fell with soft tenderness
upon my burning scars...
                               and I felt cold
but you did love with such feeling
that I shed a tear and silently hoped
my love would not wane and
             hurt you
and this is what makes me feel cold...
                           and I feel shame
for I know that these thing
            never last
and they curdle and rot with time
because of me and my
                             imperfect heart
because I was hurt and abused
and my heart was used with
            cruel ease
so I will never be the same...
                                        heal me

(ii)
symphony
its thread running through me and
pulsing to my core and running
its perfect melodies past my ears
              I crave
and all of my walls crash down
my heart jumps, skips a beat
at the sight of your face
                    the music begins

(iii)
I'm lost in a maze of terror...
memory clouded with chains and ashes
          you're lost to me
like the wind, the sea, the grass,
                                 the flame
s... sanity cracking...
                                     "madness"
I giggle incessantly when I want
                 to cry
and the tears won't... won't come
                                   "who am I?"
the looking-glass has gone dark
the glass gone dark...
the glass dark...
the dark...
                                  "I'm trapped"
blood gushing from my wrists like
liquid fire
              and I laugh
I feel no pain... no... nothing
I know the tears run down
my pale, unsoiled cheeks now
but I feel...                    no pain
my hands grasp the razor blade
without shaking and they mocked me
the colour of a thousand blooming roses
or a sunset painted with the blood of
              the innocent
like my mind... trapped behind
your bars and mangled like my heart
that I could not give to you
                               "this is my love"
served up to you on a plate where I
spilled my life blood for you and
I would spill the blood of the children
                               the innocent
if it would prove this love I have
and I will relish the cutting of my skin
                     the marring of my flesh
and I would do it...
               "for you"

(iv)
I tear myself away from these
delusions
                             "I do what I must"
but I let you use my body as your
temple
        does this sanctify me?
only to make you happy, only...
only... if this make you happy
          but are you happy?
were we ever happy toegther
or is there a hole, an abyss
opening below our feet where there
used to be solid mass?
                                 "it's all in vain"
my struggle is useless against this
because you never understood
you were fooled by this illusion
but all I wanted was to be held
touched
the notes of the piano cut my heart
and the violin play their saddened strings
this breaks me inside and I feel
               empty...
that orchestra is playing for you
playing your last symphony
and pounding out every note like
a shattered memory...
                                   "I'm sorry..."