I'm in recovery
From a failed attempt;
Or did I succeed
At my true intent?

Some would call me
An attention-seeking *****.
I feel like I'm trapped
Inside these prison-like doors. 

You changed me for the better,
Or at least it seems that way.
I haven't seen my blood
Since that long gone day.

I tell you "It's the only outlet I have!"
You reply "No, you have your pen in hand."
But all I use that for is
Drawing your name in the sand. 

"I need that razor blade,
The blood; a river of red."
"No you don't," you tell me,
"You can quit before you're dead."

I can see now
This is the only way:
Let you believe in me
And aid when I stray.