You'll always be a cutter.

You can't utter

The words "I quit"

Or everyone will know it's a bit.

Cherry red blood running

Down your arms and legs.

You think cutting

Helps you as if it's keeping you alive.

Cutting would stop

Your anger and pain.

You would gain

Scars from the bottom to the top.

People told you it was your fault,

You just felt

Broken and unwanted.

You didn't get what you wanted.

You use your blade

Hoping the scars would fade.

Your trying to stop for the one you love,

Wanting to give them a dove.

You stopped for them

Once they screw you over

You have no choice but to start again.