Broken to shame

The colors, the spots
The bruises, the scars
Now fresh pain,
Bleeding wounds
Skin torn asunder
Now worse than pricked or bruised

The words, the hate
The feelings of guilt
For letting myself take
the abuse that is dealt

Hate me, kill me
Slap me, thrill me
Bruise and batter
it doesn't matter

Who will want me?
No one.
Who will save me?
Nobody.
Who can I lean on?
Oblivion, darkness, embracing chaos
What more is there in a broken heart?