Something that will give you some deep satisfaction my dear sadists and masochists.

My bleeding lips tell a story,

Expressed better than words could ever do justice,

The rope burns on my wrist show a picture,

No artist could ever find the color to depict,

The trail of mascara running down my face,

Sings a song with notes impossible to reach,

There's no better way to tell you but for you to look,

Look at me, the scars, the bruises...the smile,

There's no better way to make you understand unless you touch,

Run your ice cold fingers over the brutal scratches,

Scattered on the body that you cant get enough of,

And I'll do the same to the marks of passion I left across your back,

They call us sadists, we get off on this pain too much,

If they only knew the lust behind the high pitched screams,

If only they felt the desire I feel when I see you, your hollow eyes cutting me.

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