I keep my tears in all day
force a couple of smiles
strain some forced laughs
take all the insults and pain
and act like it doesn't bother me
but then i get home
and i take the razor from out of place under my dark bed
the metal glitters in the hateful sun
the twin blades converse with each other
"she deserves this, there's no other way for her to go."
"she's a cutting freak and every orb of blood dropped is one less problem to worry about."
They mock and taunt me
until i can't stand it anymore
i put the razor to my arm
i twist it
willing the flesh to rip apart
and the blood to flow
and flow it does
the warm blood trickles down my arm
and i sigh in relief
everything feels better now
i put the razor back under my bed for another time
then i pull my sleeve back down
to cover the cut
this was only a whimper
only a peep
i told myself
but suddenly i can't breathe
all the cuts on my arms
would i die???
but wasn't this what I'd wanted all along???
