who knew
that words would hurt
just as bad as
the blade
that was tearing my skin

love me for who i am
love the pen marks
on my hands
love the scars
along my thighs
love me for who i am

but the scars
on your arms
aren't as bad
as the screams
in your head

with a hand full of heart
and a pocket full of soul
i have found my purpose
so down the road i go
i don't have any money
but the clothes on my back
and a paper with a pen
inside my travel sack
a prayer inside my heart
an idea within my brain
a sadness in the distance
births a coming joyous reign
even if i never make the top
i won't regret i came
you may not recognize my face
but you won't forget my name

even the sonnets of Shakespeare
began to sound the same