Hoping to see through my wrists,
A red atrocity,
With deep red transparency,
To cry for.
Six feet of problems, and hate,
Piled on top of me.
I don't know what I am feeling,
Paranoia, and pain.
And I can't stop...
Especially when I only do it,
Because I like the way it feels.
Not even because of all of this horror...
See my lovely hell?
And it's been worse,
And even when it's better,
It feels like I'm burning,
In this bane.
I don't believe,
And I'm not sure what to believe.
Suffocation is beckoning me,
The razor,
I itch to embed into my skin,
And feel that strange itch,
Rip the skin,
All I can feel is the blade,
Just the tickle of the blade,
Not even when the water runs over it,
It doesn't often sting.
Now it's just my addiction.
And it's not getting me through anything.
I want to cry.
Just let the tears run down,
But for what reason?
Never, really, is there a reason.
But there is when I feel like I am about to explode...
Forgive me if my wrists bleed on your shoes,
And if my crimson tears stain your shirt,
As you hold me.
But I cannot say that to anyone...
Because there is no one.
Just myself,
And my blackening thoughts,
Ivy twisting around my wrists and ankles,
Pulling me under...
But where else is there to go...?
Having strange cravings,
To have blood run over my tongue...
Wishing I were dead,
So tired and weary.
My soul has long been gnawed away...
And I, still so young...
I know this.
It crawls under my skin,
Like a disease,
Like dirt beneath my fingernails,
Bile within my mouth,
Not letting me peace,
Especially when they act as if I know so little.
When I know too much...
Already feeling as if I've lived far too long...

Why do I feel so wrong?
Caught in a vicious spider's web...
And I cannot get out.
Just getting more and more entwined in the deadly trap,
And unable to be heard.
But didn't you tell yourself long ago... that was what you wanted?
Greatly so, when they interrogate me.
I feel poisoned.
Can I breath any more?