3:26 a.m. - October 08, 2011
Scarstruck, Forever
Illusions made of glass. Cryptic color that shines through. Decode in your heart, you know you're right. When I said I was right I meant I was wrong. When I said I loved, I meant only myself. Lie or be lied to, the philosophy of the scarred. We cut others because we have no room left on our arms. We stab because our backs are covered.

Its impossible to believe that this is perfect. Where is the hole, where is the crack? If there isn't one, we make one; if not many. We repeat the broken cycle because that's all we know. We know and love to suffer.

I won't ever allow myself to be happy...