I'm sitting here with a razor blade  
that says she's my best friend,  
and her voice is so smooth  
I almost believe her,  
wouldn't you if you were me?  
  
The night always seems to call  
roulette and razor blades into my veins,  
when thoughts of you are knotted in my stomach,  
sour coils of flesh  
that drudge up the darkest thoughts.  
Words that stain the air  
and turn to rust on my lips.  
  
I thought I had finally cast out this craving,  
the hunger running under skin.  
I can see it when I close my eyes,  
the river wrapped around my arm  
trickling down to death.  
  
And the devil on my shoulder  
whispers sweet nothings  
through bloodthirsty lips.  
  
The morbid thoughts shed skin  
and become the virtuous  
in the cover of dark.  
When the mind crosses over  
and wanders into the realms that daylight forbids,  
or daylight forgot.  
  
I'm sitting here with a razor blade  
that says she's my best friend,  
and her voice is so smooth  
I almost believe her.  
She says that she can make it quick.  
Press it down, blade to bone.  
It won't last long enough to trouble anyone  
and neither will I.

A glass against the wall
It broke
Her skin
Slashed from within
Alcoholic disinhibition
Exposed her underlying condition
Of the urge to take, to end the days
Of a girl imperfect in every way
Waiting for a day when she didn’t wish
That she wasn’t born, she didn’t exist

Here I am laying on the floor,
Locked all the doors.
I cut and drank,
The ship already sank.

I’ll do it again,
I feel so **** shaken.
Hurting and numb all over,
It would be worse if I was sober.

When they call me to come down,
I’ll drag myself up and wipe the frown.
Won’t be a difficult child,
To my pain, everyone is blind.

What would have happened if I knocked on their door,
With blood running down my thighs.
Letting them see what I was going through,
Would I have been on the bus the next day.
On the way to school,
Wondering if anyone cared .
Would I be here now,
I know they would have gotten me extreme help.
And maybe I would have gotten that help,
Maybe I wouldn’t be cutting still,
Wondering if anyone cares .

3am, everyone is sleeping,
In a dark room sits a girl in bed shaking.
Looking for anything to numb the pain,
And quiet the heavy thoughts in her brain.

She has never had this brave idea before,
She goes and sneaks in her brothers drawer,
Pulls out his sharp army blade,
And runs to the bathroom where reality fades.

From an old art set she finds her own tool.
Continues to treat her stomach and thighs cruel.
She discovered this way to cope in 9th grade,
And now in 11th doesn’t let her scars fade.

Life feels too heavy.
Too many worries.
Too many pressures.
Too many responsibilities.
Too many hardships.
Pain.
Despair.
Hope turns to despair.
Happiness turns to numbness.
Calmness turns to pain.

Too fast.
So bleed.
Bleed.
Bleed.
Till everything is silent.
But it’s not silent.
It’s not working.
Making me panic.
Why isn’t it working?

Lines marked so neatly
Parallel to each other
On my leg horizontally
Each of them redder

Like pencils lined up
Neatly in a row.
Without any breakup
All perfectly so

Some are faded
Some fresher
Some lighter
And some harsher

Drawn carefully
To bleed and stain
Makes me have safety
To feel the pain

the thought strikes
clings with its whole might
just take the blade
before old scars fade
fighting to keep the thoughts at bay
just cut the inside pain away
hugging my tear soaked pillow
drowning in my sorrow
I shakingly sit up
Reach for the blade where it was last put
I know I shouldn’t be doing this
But the pain I cant help but miss
It silences how I feel inside
I don’t always do it to die
Just to do at least one thing
That no one else is controlling
I really want to now
To stop I don’t know how
So I give in and take the razor
Raise my pant legs and hover over
Bring the knife to my skin
Till my legs get crimson
When im done with my thing
My poor thighs sting
Now I don’t focus on the inside pain
Or feel as insane
I just let the bleeding
Do the healing.

I will never
hide
my story.
perhaps
a warning,
or a precaution of what not
to do.
but frankly,
I wouldn’t change much.
It really did make me stronger.
allowed me more empathy,
let me see
into a little
bit of horror
others go through.

don’t you dare
judge scars,
be grateful
you’ve been
trusted
with their
story.