They always ask why.
Why do you do it?
Why do you enjoy it?  
Why can't you stop?

They always say don't.
Don't do it again.
Don't let yourself.
Don't do it.
"For me."

They don't understand.
I do it for the pain.
I enjoy the release.
I can't stop because I deserve it.

They don't understand.
I have to do it again.
I want to do it again.
I don't do it to hurt you. I do it to hurt myself.  
For me.

Maybe if I wasn't a failure.
Maybe if I was a better person.
Maybe if I cared.
Maybe.

But I am a failure.
I'm not a good person.
I don't care.  
I deserve it.

The ****.
My skin slitting open.
Spilling blood.
Dripping down my arm.

But I always ask why.
Why do I do it if I'm not going to end it?
Why do I let myself enjoy it? I don't deserve to enjoy anything.
Why can't I stop this train headed right over the broken track.
Into the darkness.
Into nonexistence.
Into nothing.