I’m hurting again, it’s one of those nights
Now hurry and grab the pencil instead of the knife
I’ve never cut before and I don’t plan to start
I’d rather bleed on the paper with the words from my heart
And no one can really judge me because poetry is subjective
And I don’t really care if the message is negative
This is art in its finest, this is pain on display
This is every bad emotion, this is anger, fear and hate
This is grief beyond belief, this is guilt and shame
And every single word of it goes down on this page
No rules, no regulations, no right or wrong
And nobody can tell me that I don’t belong
I just write how I feel and feel what I write
And hope that somehow I’ll still make it through the night
Because I’ve taken my own life a thousand times
With each tear I cry, with each line I rhyme
And at the end of it all I have to decide
Is it all worth the alternative of paper suicide
