i raise my arms,
my sleeves slide toward my shoulders,
i look at my scars,
and remember why im alive,
only to do it more,
i love the sensation of the pain,
that dulling of my brain,
i cant seem to help myself,
my only pleasure in life,
is to bleed,
and bleed some more,
until red stains my floor,
blood crusted on my knife,
tears filling my pathetic life,
living just to be alone,
and dying to hurt myself,
the only thing keeping me breathing,
it something slowly killing me,
ironic,
never thought i'd live this long,
all because, of bodily harm.
 
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