They say they wanna help me.
But they don't really care.
The pain in me.
Is to hard for them to bare.
They think I can be help.
But I really can not.
The only way for me to get help.
Is for me to slice the pain away.
But that works for so long.
Till the wounds will numb.
Then I would do it again.
I will take the razor against my skin.
And I will do it again.
I need to release the other voice in my mind.
It tells me to dice my veins in my arm.
I know I shouldn't listen to it.
But its pulling me into a black hole.
How long will I be able to beat it?
How long will I be able to hide from it?
I know it won't be long.
Till I finally slice my main vein.
And then I will be help.
I will be helped out of the life I wish not to be in.
