Hearing you whisper
from over the phone
I know the ache of being alone
You choke out the questions
Through all of your tears
Every syllable confirm all my fears
I don't have answers..
And neither do you
But I know the pain of a heartbreak too

Stop cutting.

I get it, life hurts.

You want to feel, something.

You would rather watch your own blood seep out of your body from a self inflicted wound, than experience the hurt you have inside.

I get it. Stop cutting.

You choose to hurt yourself because you are overwhelmed by the pain you have caused another person, even if it was unintentional. The thought of that person whom you have such strong feelings for, suffering because of your actions or in-actions, is almost unbearable.

I get it. Stop cutting.

You don't know what to make of your situation. You don't know how a person like you could end up in such a ****** up scene. You feel stuck, lost.

I get it. I do.
Stop cutting.

Your parents ****. They don't understand the kind of **** you are going through. Sure they were kids once but that was different. Things were different back then. They don't get you and they probably never will. They don't care.

I get it. Stop cutting.

You really want to hurt yourself because you get off on the pain. You want it. You need it. You deserve it. You were put on this earth to suffer and you accept your role as martyr.

I get it. Truly, I do.
Stop cutting.

You need some sort of release. Something, anything. Anything but the consuming black,
nothing. The sweet release that only a razor can provide is the only thing that seems real to you amidst all of the drama.

I get it.
Stop cutting.



There is chaos in your life and the secret solitude provided by your ritual seems like an oasis.

I get it. Stop cutting.

You like the way your skin splits open.  You like the way you can touch the cuts underneath your clothes. You like the way the scars remind you.

I get it.
Stop cutting.

The love of your life has abandoned you, leaving a void that nobody will ever fill. Ever.
You are completely and utterly alone.

Life *****.

I get it.

You however, are beautiful,
inside and out,
scars and everything,
and you are not as alone as you think.


Please,
Please,
Please,
Stop cutting.

We are nothing
We're not lovers
We're under covers
We are nothing

We are nothing
Nothing but an illusion
It's all in my head
What I'm feeling for you

We are nothing
We are just a drunken rampage
Just a moment of touching
Just the emptiness we create

We are nothing
We are nothing after tonight
So why am I hoping?
That you'll see me in a new light.

Tears, Tears
pouring from my eyes
drowning all my fears

Words, Words
so many souring through
my mind like a flock of birds

Scissors, Scissors
slicing my skin
until I cannot feel anymore

Blood, Blood
flowing freely from my cuts
creating a crimson flood

Pills, Pills
the bottle now empty as time
begins to go still

Black, Black
is the last thing I see
before I realize there is
no going back

I could lay in this underworld,
till I decay
I wouldn't care what's around,
anyway
I fray away,
as my lifeline dissipates
This world isn't what I anticipate
Bottle me up and throw me away,
if you dare
What I've been through on this earth,
would not compare
I'm Living my life in despair
I've never declared War,
Though war declares me
I die in battle,
And I'm never set free
R.I.P