Cut it out

When is cutting self abusing?
Is it wrong to take a knife,
Pull across a blade, and bruising,
Cutting skin and bleeding ice,

I sit there, silence all around,
My ears they seem to burn,
Whisper for the blood,
No tears? No loss? No groan?

What’s the problems they scream?
Why do you want to die?
Why do you cry for help?
And you repeat that was not I

I didn’t do it for any of the reasons they scream,
And it’s not a problem if it makes me come alive within,
They tell me their view, so bias in my eyes,
Your going to stop or else, the lies..

What’s the point? More strife you cause then help,
More hatred you cause then life,
I didn’t know the feeling, to place with your words,
So I just sat there numb, numb to all the world,

In my room again,
Bleeding from a wound,
Seeing blood so clear,
Alive inside I am,

A reason I cut?
It was to pull me out of numbness,
Show me I was still alive, seeing my blood I know this,
But no tears come to my eyes,

I’m not ashamed of blood,
I’m not scared of the pain,
I just like to hide them,
So no harm comes from gain,

If others see the marks I know it may hurt them deep,
So I hide what I love from the world,
Its art, a way of identity,
I love to see the liquid of life flow from me,

Why are you so scared by someone who like this feeling?
Just because you don’t understand don’t mean you can pity,
Its not your right to judge and deny me of a blade,
I mean please its my hobby I control, you cant take it away,

I’m sorry that I’m confusing, and I feel so lost,
I don’t know who I am, but cutting make me safe,
Look at you smokes, ruining your lungs and,
5 minutes gone every time you inhale,

Can’t you see that flesh it heals,
It heals, and it doesn’t kill,
The more I cut, the better I feel,
The more sane, the more real, the more complete…

Please let me be me