My wounds are bleeding
But still I pour salt in them
Why do I continue this way?
I am past the point of healing
Without ugly scars
I think
But right now
I would settle for just
The smallest bit of relief
From my aching body
Would be a welcome gift
There is something that
Keeps me at the knife
That threatens to take my life
I cannot break it's bind
On my own
I am not all alone
My only problem is
My voice grows small
When I want to call
Out for the help I so desperately need
My pride stops me
But my small heart
Beats on
At least for now.
(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)