The Art of Self Destruction

I watch your fingers Worrying precisely over blank wrong answers With you, destruction is an art Paper snow rains from you fingers Its like they’re crying Mourning the death of you laugh You don’t meet my eyes anymore But the last time you did They were a blank board wiped meticulously clean It was just once That’s what the world knows You know the truth Do you still remember? Or have you succeeded in forgetting the past For love of the art of self-destruction? Those perfectly straight lines Carved precisely into your arms Proof that you have perfected your art