The Iron Angel

Is it wrong to feel like laughing
As I slowly mutilate myself
Should I be ashamed of the satisfaction
I feel as I see the scars from the inner pain I’ve felt
Why do I love destroying this vessel
Building up the scars
I can’t help but fall in love
With these red gashes on my arms
How can I love this horrible affliction
It’s a war I cannot win
As I slowly grasp my knife
And separate my skin
With no one to turn to
No listening ears to tell
I stumbled along with bloody tears
And the bittersweet pain I know so well
Knives became the comforting arms
That my heart ached for every time
Always there, always willing
To listen and comfort as I cried
I’ve been told it’s wrong
That this is not to be
But it’s too late for my scars, my knives
Have all become a part of me