Nothing

I'm broken inside of this body,
But glued together on the outside.
My voice is broken,
I don't know how to let people know,
How I'm feeling.

So I grab my razor,
Watch it glide so easily across my wrist.
Making a scar for each pain I have.
Watching the crimson blood flow out.

Maybe someone will be able to hear this.
See what I've done.
And that I'm not OK.
But no one ever does,
So I'll sit and wait for the day in which everyone will see what I have done to myself.

But on that day no one will be able to help me,
Because I will be set free,
Far away from my pain.
In a place where I feel nothing.