I feel so empty. I don't know why.
I feel like i need to sob myself to sleep. But I cannot cry.
I don't feel like cutting. Now, THAT is NO lie.
But all i can do it sit here. And hope and pray and try.
*I don't want to die.

You will destroy the people around you.
That girl you have the biggest crush on?
You won't be around to find out that she likes you back
But was just too shy to say anything.
That boy that has you swooning over him?
You won't be around
When he finally comes to you to say that he shares your feelings
That little girl who was showing you her dolls yesterday?
You were one of the first people that had ever made her smile.
The boy you tutor in math?
He was going to drop out of school.
Until you showed him that he wasn't dumb, like he thought he was.
You helped him discover that where he lacked in math,
He was gifted in literature.
Your best friend?
How do you think she would take it if you left?
Your parents?
The kids on your street?
Your teachers?

In the end,
What does it matter?
All our faults,
All our mistakes.
When we leave,
How will they remember us?
By our choices.
Will it be worth it?
Scars covering your body.
Will it be worth it?
Starving yourself until you are just skin and bones.
Tell me, is it all worth it?
Even if you go, people will still judge you.
Do you really want people to look at your dead body,
And be disgusted by what they see?
Because they will.
If you leave, you let them win.
If you leave, nothing you ever did will matter.
All that will matter is what horrible things you did to yourself.
Are you willing to let that happen?
Because that's a choice you will have to make.
If you leave, those scars will stay there forever.
They will never heal.
You will never find out how much you are loved.

Some battle scars are honorable.
But ask yourself this:
*Are yours?

I slice through the air, bring it down on my wrist,
To hold back my cringe, my hand turns into a fist.
I drag the sharp edge 'cross the skin on my arm,
Little do most know that I'm into self harm.
The pain now subsides, the blood starts to flow free,
My emotions go with it, though most cannot see
The true me, for I hide it behind a bright smile,
No one's truly seen the real me in a while.
I bandage my wounds to promote faster healings,
I lose sight of the blood, I lose sight of my feelings.
With my cuts nicely dressed and my urge drawing weak,
I pack up my tools, though I still feel quite bleak.
I put my tools away, safely hidden now, but...
I might have to use them the next time I cut.

I grab the sharp object so tight in my fist.
As it cuts through my skin, I can hear myself hiss.
The pain is so lovely, but it still hurts inside,
To always go 'round telling all of those lies.
"Yes, of course I am happy!", "I don't know what you'd expect
From a girl who goes home and starts slicing her skin and she's wreck-
Ing her body, which all know to be fat."
Why, what'd you expect? For me not to say that?
"Oh, dear Sir, nice to meet you, ignore the scars on my wrist.
I try hard to hide them, but sometimes I miss
Them while I'm covering them with ridiculous sleeves.
I'm sorry if sweatshirts in summer's a peeve."
"Oh, and Miss, you look lovely, with your bones sticking out.
How lovely it'd be to not have any doubt
In my body, but sadly, I still cannot say
That I don't try to look like you by starving each day."
The pain is so lovely, but it still hurts inside,
To always go 'round telling all of those lies.

The bright glint of the blade shines right back through my eyes.
My grimace appears as I slice through my thighs.
At first, nothing happens. Did I come down too weak?
But my question is answered as my blood starts to seep
Through the cuts on my legs, through the tissues on top
Of the cuts (I had placed there to act as a mop)
For the blood was still flowing, it was still coming hard,
I would've been worried, but I kept tracks of the shards
'Cuz there were none, you see, thus it's easy to tell
That the blood from inside me was dripping to Hell.
I wrote words with my razor; I wrote messages, too.
I wrote them to help me see all I am. Who
Knows what could happen, who knows what comes next?
For all that I know I will die in a wreck
Of two cars. Or maybe God will spare me my shame,
And let me bleed out and forget all the pain.
It's the pain that controls me; it tells me to try
To use all of my power to help me to die.

My greatest pleasure takes the form of my deepest pain.
I take a blade to my wrist and watch the blood rain.
People around me see a smile so sweet;
Little do they know that I burn in the heat
Of Hell, and I see Satan as I cry.
I drown in the blood as I say my final goodbye.