As i look in my reflection in the razorblades
i realize the mistake I'm about to commit
i look at my phone for reassurance....
but no one calls....and i conform i am truly alone....
i continue on...as if this is a journey...but its not....
its a setback...a weakness....a fault....
the bad part is that i cant stop...
in my head all is correct.....strategised correctly....
but it never comes out that way in the final result....
i look at all the cut marks and think of battle scars....
but how good is a battle against myself...
i end up winning.....just as i do losing....
so am i at a never ending draw within me?
to some a draw is considered a loss....
so am i in a losing battle with myself?
i continue to cut....not caring what anyone would think....
then i go to my corner and cry...
and all the tears that leave and drop down my face fall...
fall into a puddle.....a deep pit...
it doesn't dry up for a couple days...
so I'm forced to sleep on a wet pillow for a while...
the next day isn't any better.... for i feel regret....
so i punish myself....cause i deserve it...
the sting of salt and alcohol...is worse than the cutting....
and in pain i will for ever stay....
not only in the cuts...but in my so called "heart" as well..
and thats the story....of one emo night....
