People ask me why I cut my own skin
It's kind of hard, but I'll try to explain.
It's like a pressure inside me,
And there's no way to let it out
Except to cut my own skin
And let it bleed out.
I like to watch my imperfections
Bleed out from my skin
Letting out all the horrible feelings that I have within.
But when I'm done--that's it.
I don't feel any better
I tell myself I'll quit--
Find new ways to cope when I'm under the weather.
But I keep going back
To my lovely razor.
It has everything I lack,
It makes me feel better.
So, you see, it's not something I can control.
My razor is almost like a part of me
It's like a piece of my soul.

The urge is back
And it's here to stay.
I try to make it stop,
But it won't go away.
I need the satisfaction
Of ruining my own skin
To help relieve some of the pain
That I feel within.
I know it's wrong--
Everyone says so.
But it's so hard to stop,
So hard to let it go.
It's like a battle that's raging inside of me.
I need help--no, I need the release.
Sometimes I just wish I could stop being me.