Scrubbing away any evidence that I was here,
That I felt that low to do that thing.
Didn't want to try it,
Become addicted, like I have.
Swore that I would ever,
But I did, I can't change that.
Cleaning the wound, it hurts so badly,
But in a sense, I feel better.
Soap seeking in with the blood,
Causing an everlasting sting.
I try to make them fade away,
No potion will cause them to leave.
Scars washed to what's left of them,
In time they will go into my skin.
Heart wrenched of the practise,
That lost me my friends.
Blade sharpened, ready for another go,
I burst out, cut I don't want to.
Scaling over my job well done,
So unique, no one's will be the same.
No straight lines I cut,
An imprint of hates, confusion and lost hope.
I cry, wanting to give up,
I fade, with nothing good left in me.
