Shade of life.

The world has left you feeling so alone,

No person you trust that you care to phone;

The darkness has taken over the light,

Nobody loves you, you give up the fight;

Your understanding is to go alone,

Research some solutions upon google chrome;

You see people with blades and often razors,

Blood all around, something that favours;

Look down at your wrists and see them so smooth,

Pick up the sharp objective and make a move;

The blood releases something thats so deep,

You yelp out in pain and feel so weak;

But that one cut just is not enough,

Have to prove to yourself that you're tough;

You cut weeks upon weeks, months upon months,

Your family finds out and ends up in grumps;

The say you should stop,

But you know you cannot;

Although you say you will try  to make them happy,

But it leaves you feeling suicidal and crappy;

The motivation to stop just is not there,

And you can't understand why on earth they care;

The scars on your wrists now looking all wrong,

Nothing is working not even a song;

You can't stop the blood now upon your cut wrists,

You ball your hands up into fighting fists;

But trapped in this room you cannot escape,

The blade and razor owns you, keep you safe;

With this method you almost feel well,

Your owned by this now. Welcome to hell.