The Razorblade chronicles.

Every scar I have makes me who I am,
every lie you said makes me distrust,
like razor blades a kiss could be,
how unfortunate to love you it is.

Every scar is a memory,
of this world getting closer,
of every second I thought of mankind.
Of every time you yelled I was useless,
I love the way, I can see you twist and coil your tongue,
I love the way your heart melts and gets broken.
and thee scars gave no token of this untouchable soul of mine.

No men will brake me, no one will ever know.
Of the thousand times you cheated our promises.
The lips you manipulate, and became stranger.

This in my hands makes me who I am,
strong and willing,
never hesitating,
of loving some one else with all my being,
even if they break my heart.