• The only friend that I have left is a seven inch, sharp bladed knife.
    Although I never cut too deep, I still pray it will end my life.

    Everyday I come home, to slice skin is my desire,
    My veins cry out and beg me to set them on fire.

    One cut to drain my fear away, two cuts to feel something new,
    three cuts to distract me from my soul's pain, four cuts to escape from you.

    I hack and slice and cut away to get you out of my head,
    But when it doesnt work, I remember when you killed me in my bed.

    I cut because you hurt me, and left nothing inside.
    And just like the scars that cover my arms, these memories I try to hide.

    I begged, screamed, and pleaded. I cried I yelled "no"
    But you ignored it and let yourself take me, so now I let my blood flow

    So i'll keep cutting until I get my visit from the Grim Reaper,
    and each time you come back, and four cuts don't suffice, I'll cut a little deeper.