Look

"Look at that girl,"
They whisper behind me.
"The one that was in the hospital,"
"The crazy one," They believe.

"Can you see her wrists?"
All ask one another.
"I can't believe they're razor-kissed."
No, I don't cover.

Let them gossip,
They know not the truth.
Let them talk about me,
I know now how to soothe.

Yes I bled,
Yes I hurt.
Out of control I sped,
With death, I did flirt.

I'm on the recovery road,
Soon It'll all be behind.
Peace in me flowed,
The real me I'm to find.

Until then they can talk,
About my recent story.
Point towards me as I walk
Soon, I hope, They'll find me boring...