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Description
I have a cut on my forehead.
It's where people take things from me.
They simply bury their hands in it, not caring about the dark, red, metallic blood thats now cloaks their hands.
Not caring about the pain it causes me.
It hurts.
They make their stealing swift, plunging their hands inside my head and ripping it out of me.
It hurts.
They use whatever they take from me.
And when they are done, they throw it away.
They don't give it back.
And by then, it's too late to get it back.
It hurts.

Description
I have a cut on my forehead.
It's where people take things from me.
They simply bury their hands in it, not caring about the dark, red, metallic blood thats now cloaks their hands.
Not caring about the pain it causes me.
It hurts.
They make their stealing swift, plunging their hands inside my head and ripping it out of me.
It hurts.
They use whatever they take from me.
And when they are done, they throw it away.
They don't give it back.
And by then, it's too late to get it back.
It hurts.