Slice.
I get mad,
Slice.
I get frustrated,
Slice.
I get stressed,
Slice.
I get sad,
Slice.

All I do is slice.
all I can do is slice.
all I know is to slice.
all I want to do is slice.
all I love is to
Slice.

I try.
I really do.
Nothing works.
Forgive me, will you?

I've loved.
It hurt.
Never again.
Care for me, will you?

I've tried to forget.
It always comes back.
Back to hurt me.
Protect me, will you?

I've hurt myself.
I many ways.
It helps me cope.
Stop me, will you?

I've tried smiling.
It never lasts.
I'm not happy.
Cheer me up, will you?

I can't breathe.
I can't live.
It hurts so much.
Help me, will you?

once you dig the razor in too deep
you know youve crossed a line
in more ways than one

physically;
youve cut deeper than
you ever have before

and then
mentally;
you cannot go back now

the red bead bracelet
is a bracelet i made myself,
with the razors of my pencil sharpeners,
the beads of blood covering my wrist,
the red blood being the sole reason
i dont show my wrists without being covered
by some sort of sweater or jacket
because if i don't
i get made fun of or questioned
i am asked, why?
why did i pierce my clean, ****** wrists
with driving razors through my skin
the answer is because
i wish i weren't here.
because i don't feel
loved enough to not do it
i am ill, yes, I know that by now,
my therapy sessions prove it
the calls up to the office prove it
me, a kid on suicide watch in my own home
prove it all.
i can hardly keep my door shut
without getting yelled at by my parents
i know i am ill
but i am not
the deranged monster i am made out to be
that is what the red bead bracelet is for.

ATTENTION.
Oh sweet attention
How i crave you..
Letting the lines show
Trading them for a tiny bit of compassion

Paper lines
Paper lies.
The truth lies engraved in your arm,
The sweet pain that accomppanied your blood
As it dripped down
And stained your sleeve.