Cutting

Slice goes the blade across my thigh. Slice it goes; as i do it to feel the high. The pain isn't there but more a release. Then comes the dark red as the blood begins to seep. I am lost; i know I am. I cant let them see I am at it again. Instead of my wrists, neck or face. I get creative and find a new place.. if they find out, i will end up back there.. in a white hospital room, not even a visitors chair. I didn't want to go back, but I need to get help.. i understand I'm sick, but i also am beginning to feel like myself. This is me who I am.I feel weak as a mouse, but also strong as an ox... trapped inside my own hell, at least its not a white box.. I stop slicing. Why am back to this. Where is my happy self? I need to get her back, please help me; can you not see somethings amiss. On one shoulder is dark me, giggling encouraging. On the right, angel me is missing, where could she be? The darkness i must allow in.. i must feel the slices and the prick of the pin. If i didn't, i will not heal. My soul needs the pain, it needs to be real.. She is here with a poof, like my own little knight.. Back on my shoulder, bringing back a little light. And just like that the dark is a little less; maybe now I can get myself out of this mess. I clean up the blood that's pooled on the floor.. Just in time too; as i hear the slam of the front door. I keep staying strong, i have to for me. This time the downward spiral makes me feel like i am finally free.