Self-harm.

Have you ever cut yourself,
To release the aching pain,
And for the split second,
On your life it did not rain.

Do you like to see,
The blood from beneath the skin,
Do you like your cutting tool,
To dig further and further in.

What is it you use,
A razor, compass or knife,
Do you hate yourself so much,
You want to take your life.

Every night do you sit,
And cut away at your flesh,
Are your once clean arms,
Just one big old mess.

Why is a pain such a release,
For when you're feeling low,
Why are there so many feelings,
That you do not show.

Why does self-harm,
Seem like such an easy way,
To cope with all the things,
You won't or cannot say.