What is it to you?
That I cut.
That I come home everyday
to another razor blade kiss?
What is it to you?
That I shiver every time we touch?
You just don't see, how little
I mean to me.
You just don't care.
The blood drips, leaving
streaks, like the ones
from tears on my face.
What is it to you?
The drips turn to constant,
What is it to you?
My vision blurs.
I'm finally ending it.
What is it to you?
My body, soon to be lifeless,
sinks to the floor,
in a pool of crimson.
What is it to you?
