The cutting the slicing my skin. I see the blood pouring out like a river of tears. My body is the canvos for the tears of my heart. The knife the paint brush.I crave the pain the cutting an addiction. Addicted to slicing away at my very entity. I cut to make sure I still live. To make sure I am alive because I don't feel the warmth of the sun. The cold over takes me I want to be dead. Death would be better then this. I want to lay in that bed of silk and forever sleep. Don't call me creepy, don't call me crazy. I am not at all. If you were going through what I'm going through you would understand my hands are blood stained. I've been beaten by my own hand. The knife and the razor blade stand bloody. I can't take it anymore I can't see the good side. Every thing that happens is just another stepping stone I don't plan to cross. I want to cry I want to die most of all. To be forever sleeping in my death you won't cry you will cheer that my life has ended and your free. The cutting it fulls it the pain. If you only knew if you could see the scars upon scars I hide from the. If you could feel how I feel you would be wishing for the darkness to come faster every day. Just make this end. I'm ashamed of it. The knife I keep hiden the pain I keep locked away until you look away. I cut for the pain. When i do I feel my closest to death. Cutting has become my life and that will never change until I pull the trigger or slide the knife across my vein. I will always be dieing.
