The sae of crimson calls me name
The darkened red comes from my vein
The cruel addiction to the blade
And here before me the pain is laid
I do not weep I do not cry
I give the blade another try
I hear footsteps down the hall
My mom was cheerful I recall
But she is filled with such alarm
When she sees my bloody arm
She wraps it up and begins to say
Well get you help, You'll be okay
Now I'm in this depressive "home"
And without that blade, I'm all alone
