silent screaming
pictures, stories, thoughts
needing to come out
so I start to write them down
one word after another
every picture, every phrase
but only myself can read the writing
only me that knows their signs
knows how to point them
see the pictures in every single word
and more and more gets added
poems, deep thoughts
like a book it is in front of me
all the things that I wrote
stories that tell
of fortune, happiness and love
and of anger, sadness and pain
and never will I forget even one
no poem will fade
works for eternity
written without color
and with every word runs a tear sweet juices
running down the warm parchment
and only me can understand
with every cut a new picture
with every time a new word
the blade as a tool
as a pen that's writing
with every scar a new story
that only I know
redemption that seizes me
with every wound a picture of which I free myself
with every pain my thoughts go lose
and so I donate redemption
every time when blades are stroking the skin

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