Your hand picks up a blade
to take to your wrist.
Everything seems so wrong,
you doubt you'll be missed.

I know what it feels like,
to be confused.
But it's not worth being
scarred and bruised.

It's hard to resist the urge
to draw blood from your veins,
carving away canyons,
having grotesque remains.

There's a way out,
believe me, I care.
Hurting yourself won't turn
your life around.

I understand, trust me.
Stop before you get too deep.
Throw away your sharpest weapon,
and try to get some sleep.

Let your wounds heal
and look at your scars.
Promise me that you'll never
again go that far.
 
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