I look at my left wrist,
The fleshy part,
And I see a window
Into my dark past.
Yes, there are scars
From battles that I fought
And demons that I tried
To cut out of myself.
I grew up playing
Doctor and house,
But no one ever told me
Not to cut the demons out of myself.
I could feel them inside me,
So I tried to get them out,
But my knife wasn't sharp enough,
Or my inscisions were too shallow.
I tried knives and other blades,
I tried alcoholism and drugs,
I tried filling the void with other things,
And popped pills around the clock.
I thought, if I can't **** my demons, maybe they'll **** me,
But I don't want to seem defeated,
So I cut out the middle man,
And tried on my own to **** me.

I woke up in a hospital,
In a gown I'd never seen.
My arms and legs were strapped down
And I began to scream.
Not a scream like getting spooked,
Or when you're taken by surprise,
But the scream of a girl in horror movie,
During her process of being exorcised.
I screamed in horror
And I screamed in pain
Realizing what I had failed to do
And my life would never be the same.