January 8, 2008
As I sit on the bathroom floor
and drag dad's old razor slowly across my wrist
My eyes begin to water and my fingers begin to twitch

I watch as the blood quickly runs down my arm
as the razor pierces my vein
This large loss of blood, is my own personal gain

I've been hurt so many times
Now I can control what I feel
All past pain was simply artificial
This pain is real

It hurts so much, but it feels so good
A method perceived so horribly and often misunderstood

The scars left behind hold memories, all of myself
They are also the product of a continously unheard
cry for help

Nobody knows what all is wrong
Although, I'm completely sure
I wonder if they hear my cry now
As I drown in a red puddle of blood, dead on the
bathroom floor

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Anna Mari said...
Jan. 23, 2009 at 9:28 pm
Oh my god, this is so relatable. . . it feels like reading an autobiography. . . you have a Gift in writing.
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