Itchy wrists lock me in my room
Wanting it to stop
Willing to do anything to make it go away
But how much can I bring myself to do
If given the chance
I would slice and gash
Leaving no pale, smooth skin
Pour all my blood out
Until there's no more left to flow
Along with the red
Pours out the soul
Nothing left inside
But the blade is scared of clean skin
Doesn't want to leave more scars
Already too many that won't disappear
