Cut,
to watch the blood run out.
Bleed,
to make sure your still alive.
The sweet pain,
fills my cravings,
and makes me feel satisfied.
The scars will be all thats left,
and each one will tell a story.
A story of pain,
and despair.
Or a story of death,
and suicide.
Sometimes I hurt myself,
so you cant,
because a broken heart is far worse,
than anything the thin blade could do.
Until that day,
when you cut too deep,
and the only story that will be left to tell,
is your eulogy.
