Cycle of self-harm.

I can't escape,
The razor calls my name.
I find myself trapped
inside a world of pain.

The first cut I told myself,
I wouldn't let this get to me.
But it has become my addiction,
my need to bleed.

I rip up sad poetry,
and many suicide letters.
They all lied,
nothing is better.

I've tried praying,
but God isn't there.
Now I've learned,
no one is gonna care.

These faded scars,
in an arrange of colors.
I feel the need to have more scars,
so I make another.

This cycle never ends,
and I have tried.
Though I may look just fine,
inside I've already died.