5/29/18
Writing "kill yourself" in crimson ink
With your favorite writing utensil
On your wrist
Why is my life a pencil that breaks
People continually try to sharpen it
But the tip keeps breaking off as soon as you try to do anything
With your god forsaken life
My happiness is a pen that you scribble and scribble
And touch to the tip of your tongue
Hoping that maybe
Just maybe the ink will come out
My pain is a razor,
The only thing that does any good in my life
It writes "I hate you" in a language that's only known to many
All you see is a row of gashes down my wrist
But it means "I want to kill myself"
In this too well known language.