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)