lying in my bed
holding my knife
staring at it, wanting
to relieve my strife
"no, don't!
not again!"
but the blade seems to be
my only friend
and my desire
to reopen these scars
is far too strong
and my mind has drifted
much too far
but still fighting,
battling the urge
but suddenly
a voice is heard
i look around
and there he sits
with that evil grin
upon his lips
"go ahead,
you're far too weak.
just like your pain
is far too bleak.
so go on,
cut away,
make yourself bleed
it's okay"
glancing at the knife
and then at my wrist
i find this craving
too much to resist
so I put the blade
to my skin
he nods in reassurance
as i glance back at him
and i can feel the pain
seeping from my heart
as the red drops ooze through
when my skin tears apart
and hot tears
stream down my face
and he's laughing in the background
still sitting in place
and suddenly i stop
and throw the blade down
and his laughter continues
as i turn around
my eyes are filled
with hate and disgust
and i cry as i speak,
"again, you've made me cut"
and he doesn't say a word
as i grab a needle and thread
so here i am
sewing my wounds, yet again
and the cycle continues
when the urge is near
he always come back
as does the fear
but one of these days
that fear will die
and i know it will,
as will I
 
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