Warm arms cradling a cold boy.
Reassurance is only temporarily comforting.
Tears stain the boy, seeping into his soul.

He knows they care, but they cannot help.
The scars covering his arms are apparent.
But he doesn't care anymore.

It helps him relax and washes away his sorrows.
The warm arms grip tighter.
"I won't go away."

He knows they care.
He's well aware.
But from beneath the warm cocoon.
He picks up a razor.

In a world full of people, nobody can help.
You live in isolation; full of self-doubt.