Control

Blood stained hands,
arms like lined paper.
Do I regret this,
Or do I try once again?
The blade now rusting.
Blood now rushing,
Giving me the sense of control.
I control my life.
I make my own choices
no matter how much i regret them.

Two wrists to scar
Yet no room for all the my pain
A million tears I've cried
Yet not enough to reflect my sorrow.

I hurt myself
Rather than complain.
Complaining hurts others
Cutting hurts only me.
I am in control,
No one else. Nothing else.
Only me and my razor blade.