The Blood Don't Work

I thought this knife in my hand
Would make me feel sane.
I thought this knife, bleeding me dry
Would cure me of this pain.

Opening up my skin,
Letting the memories all pour out.
All the pain and anguish that I've suffered,
Erasing all the doubt.

But this blade that I behold
Is not the way out of my pain.
So I'm putting down this bloody thing,
I'm going to start over again.

The blood running down my arm
Makes me feel better, for a while.
But then I sit and think about it,
And I realize the blood don't work.