I miss the feeling,
The way the blade felt against my skin.
Hot and cold just like me.
I miss the red lines on my arm,
The way the hate, the pain, the guilt just oozed out of me,
I fucking miss that feeling.
Now all I have is paper and pen,
It's like replacing a cigarette with a candy cane.
Sometimes you don't want to be better.
Sometimes you just want to bleed.