Upon her slight white arm

A beautiful pink scar.

Three slashes in a row

Running down her flesh.

An intoxicating reminder,

A message from the past.

Whisperings of an addiction

To that of a blade.

The feelings unexplainable

As all the pain seeps out

Carried away by lost blood.

No real reason for it

And so hard to understand.

No matter what she tries

It is her only release.

The only thing that is consistent.

It will never leave her

Never abandon her like the rest.

The only thing in this world

To stand by her forever.

The alluring feeling,

Of her poisoned razor blade.