She's proud of herself, but won't even tell you why,
It's been almost a week since she last even tried,
But the voices won't stop, and today they won,
Will she go for a razor, or end it all with a gun?
After hours of crying and arguing with herself,
She gives in, and opens the hidden box on her shelf,
Overwhelmed with emotions, she selects her blade,
Oddly delighted with the choice she's made.
So once again, she takes a razor to her vein,
And without even flinching and feeling no pain,
Well, there is pain, of course, but mistaken for praise,
She's lacking in judgement because of the feeling of daze.
She sits there, emotionless, blood pouring from her vein,
Giving into the feeling she has for so long resisted,
A smile crosses her face as red streaks her arm,
She's caught up in the evil known as self-harm.