The routine is always the same.
The bedroom door closed
Music so loud that
My scream cannot be heard  
One thing leads to the other
Before I know, I have tears down my eyes and a razor in my hand
I don't know how many times I promised myself that it would be the last time
Minutes later I hate myself
Why was I so weak?
I regret it with all my strength
But its the only thing that temporarily eases the emotional pain.
I wish I didn't do this,
But there I am again,
Closing the door and let emotions flow just like the blood down my wrists...