Sewn together

Fifty nine: another cutter

The boy with scraggly black hair

Sat in front of me on the bus

The boy with black hair was alone

In his mind

I could see it through his eyes

And his cuts shined brightly

Upon his wrists

Oh how desperately I wanted to tell him

That it was okay

And I could help because

I knew what he was going through

And when they judged him

For the scars that shined on his wrists

I wanted to speak

I couldn't talk

The haunting ghosts held back my words

He's just another cutter

That I can't save

Another cutter

That I can't save