Lines

Lines that trickle
red and bright
straight across
or curved and cut
falling down my scars and sins
waiting for the ends and ins.
Lines now forming
through the lies,
screaming softly
in my mind.
Lying, laying in the way;
hiding, resting as they say.
Hiding, hiding,
hot and hurt,
where the broken ones are burnt.
Lines that fall
and lines that form.
Lines I've made,
and ones I've scorned.
Scars that leave
past yesterday.
Still, I need you.
Come and stay?