My skin is a canvas
There for me to draw
When the voice consumes my mind
And the blade begins to call.

I’ve tried to stop myself
From doing what it says
But my hand acts of its own accord
Drawing out the red.

I say that I am better
That I won’t do it again
But there’s a demon that lurks inside
Hidden behind my grin.

It tells me I’m not good enough
That I will never succeed
And it makes me draw the ugly lines
From my hips down to my knees.

I’m sorry I’m not perfect
Or who you want me to be
But in truth the person you’re looking at
Isn’t the real me.