The bright glint of the blade shines right back through my eyes.
My grimace appears as I slice through my thighs.
At first, nothing happens. Did I come down too weak?
But my question is answered as my blood starts to seep
Through the cuts on my legs, through the tissues on top
Of the cuts (I had placed there to act as a mop)
For the blood was still flowing, it was still coming hard,
I would've been worried, but I kept tracks of the shards
'Cuz there were none, you see, thus it's easy to tell
That the blood from inside me was dripping to Hell.
I wrote words with my razor; I wrote messages, too.
I wrote them to help me see all I am. Who
Knows what could happen, who knows what comes next?
For all that I know I will die in a wreck
Of two cars. Or maybe God will spare me my shame,
And let me bleed out and forget all the pain.
It's the pain that controls me; it tells me to try
To use all of my power to help me to die.