A Razor's Haunting

Hidden beneath my clothes,
the unseen wounds etched in my skin.
I try to forget the memorable ghouls,
but they rush back like a flood of sin.

The hidden razor that haunts me.
The razor is my best friend.
If I keep going like this, would it kill me?
Best friends forever, until the very end?

So many scars that stay on my skin,
like ghosts, haunting me from forever on.
They remind me of things I've done, places I've been.
Will this torturing pain ever be gone?

Sitting on the dark and quiet Plutonian shore,
thinking about this worldly hell.
Seeing the precious red blood pour,
listening to my own wail.

The blood is heavily, steadily flowing.
Flowing so much out of me.
The world is leaving, going,
like an overdose of nepenthe.