Black Strings

I've got black strings on my wrists;
Each one tells a different tale.
Stories how I save a life
And others of how I fail.
Many are reminders—
Some make me forget.
Memories of you
And how you faded by sunset.

I cannot remove them.
They've tied into my skin.
I can only prove them—
How they end, how they begin.
I can't beg them to leave;
They are not alive.
Yet somehow they weave
Into my heart and make me cry.

I've got black strings on my wrists—
No more white strings of happiness.
No silver lines of innocence,
No golden cords of bliss.