We want to scream we want to cry and we hate to admit it but sometimes we ask to die just to stop the constant hurt the constant cry to stop the voices in our head to refuse the need to get out of bed to stop cutting and biting and scratching at my skin like it’s paper thin the knife the pen but we’re an artist we can’t quit each cut like a step closer to finishing our work and when I’m done the lines soon fade then only white lines remain and what if I slip and cut too deep? I cut and cut so blood will cover up everything I made and then I’ll restart on a clean slate a new masterpiece and then I’ll trace the lines and the past and it hits like a train and then I’ll start to get to work on my masterpiece until I’m no more this is the question everyone has asked