I don't really cut... so don't worry. Hope you like the poem though ::
Just thinking about that day,
when you found out I liked you.
You acted very unsurprised,
I wondered, "Did you like me too?"
A few days have gone by,
I've gotten my answer.
I felt myself fading away,
slowly dying, like cancer.
I eyed that razor in our bathroom.
Sitting there; harmless, innocent.
I reached up and grabbed it.
The lines of blood felt magnificent.
Everyday I'm shielding feelings,
Faking smiles everywhere I go.
Yet at home, with the razor in my hand,
Sight of the blood takes my mind off woe.
Sometimes I wanted to cut deeper,
Leaving the world once and for all.
But I couldn't after I thought of that face,
the one I throw fake smiles to across the hall.
