All those dark nights, lost and afraid.
Fighting the thoughts that come to invade.
Sitting alone, fresh blade in hand.
Gliding across the soft, fleshy land.
Droplets rise up, a dark liquid shade.
Out of the slashes and wounds that were made.
Forget the struggles, the tears that were shed.
Holding the knife stained permanent red.
Stare in the mirror and what do you see?
Pink, little cuts covering me.
Some on my ankles, my stomach and thighs.
More on my arms, but that's no surprise.
Still in denial, all is ok.
They don't go real deep, the scars fade away.
Not willing to stop, not ready yet.
This addictive behavior is full of regret...
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
All those dark nights, lost and afraid.
Fighting the thoughts that come to invade.
Sitting alone, fresh blade in hand.
Gliding across the soft, fleshy land.
Droplets rise up, a dark liquid shade.
Out of the slashes and wounds that were made.
Forget the struggles, the tears that were shed.
Holding the knife stained permanent red.
Stare in the mirror and what do you see?
Pink, little cuts covering me.
Some on my ankles, my stomach and thighs.
More on my arms, but that's no surprise.
Still in denial, all is ok.
They don't go real deep, the scars fade away.
Not willing to stop, not ready yet.
This addictive behavior is full of regret...
