What I thought when i did this to me,
is that if i hide it
no one will see.
But it's getting hot,
and I can't hold it in,
for this isn't right,
but it's my own sin.
I don't want you to know,
because you'll judge me like that,
but it's getting harder,
i have to get this off my back.
I did for me,
so I wouldn't go insane,
but it's the memories I've realized
that'll save me today.
I used to be happy,
a little too much,
but i guess it's the coldness of the blade,
that makes me melt from the touch.
Maybe it's my depression
finally coming out,
but it keeps me quiet,
keeps me form that drawn out shout.
I hold it inside,
until i can't anymore,
then I go in the corner,
and pull out my blade,
a little slip of the knife,
another memory made.
you'd think i was at war,
if you saw my battle wounds,
and technically I am,
in this war to live.
I can't stand to be here,
but going would be no fun,
but I'm getting the urge now,
I have to run.
