My Skin is a Canvas

My skin is a canvas
For the artist "The Razor"
No one can stop this
People are saying "I can't blame her."
What does that mean,
Cruelty come alive?
Is my life as good as you think
Then why do I not want to survive?
They say it'll get better
They claim they understand
Then why do I cower
With this knife in my hand?
Blood swirling my arms
Red against white
You were supposed to keep me from harm
But turned off the light
Allowing for horrors
To creep in the dark
Covering the terror
That lurks beneath each mark.
Scars on my arms
Scars on my legs
Scars on my hip
Can you hear me beg?
Wounds mean nothing
Only more reminders
Of the pain I love to endure
Masochism I'm sure.
But still,
My skin is a canvas
For each form of self harm
And the question I ask is,
"Should I be alarmed?"