Cut
Another day, another walk home.
Another cut, another night alone.
Sleeping in a blanket of tears.
Waking to the pain of a million years.
It's become a routine to bleed.
Dragging the blade down my wrist.
It fulfills my need,
To make happiness exist.
Maybe it's a bit psychotic.
Maybe it's wrong.
But it's better than taking narcotics,
It's been better all along.
Judge me for my scars,
Laugh at the lines on my wrists.
But life is hard,
When you know you won't be missed.
So I'll cut myself again,
Try to end the pain.
Make everything disappear,
Show my feelings, so sincere.
Cutting is my only way.
Suicide won't change a thing.
I do it everyday.
To rid myself of pain.