Finished

There's a part of me,
Itching for the razor.
A part of my brain,
That just doesn't care.

Every fucking day,
It takes over.
It fogs my mind,
So every thing's a blur.

I look at myself,
And feel disgust.
I'm not someone,
You'd rely on for trust.

I need to find a way,
To punish my soul.
Something that satisfies,
And pulls me out of this hole.

A promise to never,
let the razor cut my skin.
A promise to never,
Go to extremes to be thin.

If I fail,
Can I keep it inside?
If I fail,
He'll see it in my eyes.

The only way,
To climb out of this rut:
Quit the purging,
And fuck the cut.

©2007-2008 Stefanie Czyzyk