Some people say that it’s a way to escape
A way for your mind to evacuate
A way to shake off the pain
To erase the names
To find peace
To soothe your mind
Yet you feel ashamed
As if it was wrong
To slice at your wrists
You cry at night
Blinded by the sight
Of the crimson fluid
Flowing down your arm
Running away from your problems
You continue to fly away
And cut at the arm that God made
Just for you
It’s not a way to solve things
With all the pain it brings
To your own self,
It damages you
Don’t throw your body away
Don’t throw away the perfection
that God made
Just for you
Because once the blade
touches your wrist
You become an addict
Trying to find your way out
But you keep going back
For more
Only because you’ve
Convinced yourself
That it helps