My Final Goodbye

I'm 14 years old, with 32 cuts up my wrist
not counting my thighs or arms
I'm already on the [ most ] suicidal list

I used to be that little girl with the skinned knee
That was the life
Crying over spilt ice cream, I wish that was me

I began to cut at age Thirteen
from a thumbtack to a razor blade
how deep they got, no ones ever seen

My friends never knew my inside pain
from the countless tears
to the heartbreak i would gain

I would twist the lock and shut the door
cutting up and down
letting the pain and sting grow more

I tried to get help to stop this way
I even tried my school
going to a counselor from day to day

This helped me stop for 2 weeks straight
not a cut anywhere
but still then it was to late

I had chosen to end my life
not with a gun
simply cutting with a knife

I looked at my veins as i began to cut
as the blood ran out
i screamed silent with my eyes shut

my 32 cuts became 63
over a nights time
because u never loved me

so i write this note, as i slowly die
for when i said i love you
mine meant something, it wasn't a lie.