I'm Okay

I'm okay...I swear, these are just battle wounds I wear.
From a war waged deep within, fought on the front lines of my skin.
Of course there are casualties, from the tragedies...
I don't know if I can keep fighting any longer, while I get weaker it gets stronger.
The urge to drag that blade across my skin, but if I do they win.
They're waiting for me to slip up, saying things to make me cut.
Like: you're worthless, not beautiful, won't amount to anything, disappointment is all you bring.
Maybe the only way to win is to lose, this is the solution I choose.
Can't stand the mistake I am, so I've come up with one last battle plan.
It involves razorblades, and crimson stains.
The lights start to fade and soon I'll be done, this is a battle I've already won.