My skin it slices,
With pain comes pleasure.
It’s me, my crisis
It hurts too much to measure.
I know I shouldn’t,
But what’s to stop me?
I need to try but I couldn’t,
Who else am I supposed to be?
I scar on the outside,
I scab and bleed and cry,
But it’s the thing on the inside,
The numbness is there so I can’t try.
To help myself.
To help them.
I’m not myself,
But only for him.