Everyone
Has that one habit
Or method
To cope
And deal with the
Pains
And horrors of life.

Some try drown their demons in alcohol
Others try to bleed them dry with a blade
A few turn to flight from a drug  to flee their inner monsters
And some even run and hide.

I have gone through stages.  
First thoughts
Then actions.
I started with the idea.
And I grew weaker.
Eventually, I didn't think
I just cut.
If I felt
I cut.
To numb the pain of feeling
And to turn my emotional trauma into physical pain.
If I didn't feel
I cut.
To take away that numbness
And to make me feel, so I knew I was alive.

Now that my best friend- my chosen blade- has abandoned me
Just like everyone else
Because everyone leaves
I run
And I swim
And I hide away in my own body armor- my shell.
To get away from this hell
And I dedicate my time to try help others
But I've been getting weaker
And weaker
My mind has become bleaker
And I am tempted.

I am not fine
And that makes it harder for me to help others.
I cannot help others as effectively when there is no one to help me.
But I don't need help.
I will dedicate my last breath to making You happy. I swear on my pathetic life
I  will  **be what you deserve.