Should I Use The Knife Here At My Side

I stand here with my eyes closed to the world;
Remembering all that pain you put me through.
My arms hang nimbly,
With that special blade gripped ever so slightly.
Should I use the knife here at my side?

Why does it always happen to me?
It seems that I fall for the ones who want their idea of perfection.
The model pretty ones.
The ones that have no flaws.
Ones that are so deathly opposite of me.

Its funny how they all use the same lie,
I like you for you
Ironic how I believe it until I see their eyes.
They resent my imperfections.
The many ways Ive been torn, broken, and shattered.
Each phrase spoken, only adds a new crack.

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling,
Thinking that I hate you so much.
And youre the one that shattered me the most.
But, at the same instance, the same thought tells me more.
Im addicted to your being.
To everything in your essence.
I find that I crave you.
I need your touch, no matter how rough.
No matter how much hurt you caused me,
I find myself lusting to keep you in my life.

Should I just forget you and everything you are?
Everything I wanted?
Every dream I once relied upon?
The values I always protected,
Should I let these fly away with out regrets?
The morbid thing is;
I would drop my life; everything I was doing, at any given moment,
And only for you.

Should I stop this madness that battles in my head?
The real question,
Can I ?
Can I bring myself to experience the expertise of my knife?
The hectic pumping in my veins tell me one thing.
Use this knife there at your side.