I take my arm and hold it straight
I think of the bleeding--my pain can wait.
I know what I do will leave a scar
I stop for a moment, not thinking too far.
I take the blade and cut to BLEED
This ISNT what I want, but it IS what I need.
The blood comes up, then down my arm
If I feel numb I don’t see the harm!
This is my choice, they are my wrists!
This is how I cope with always being pissed.
As my life slowly drains I start to cry
Why did I do this again? Why can't I just die!

 
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