A fire ablaze within my eyes,
a smile concealing all my lies.
Screaming, begging, calling out,
a final, frantic, desperate shout.

Scarlet tears drip from each vein,
a vehement covet to end this pain.
This silver blade, stays by my side,
because all hope inside has died.

As each day ends, and darkness draws,
the devil toys, will all my flaws.
I’m helpless, alone, a worthless mess,
a broken child, he must address.

I’m tempted when he calls my name,
a way out, an escape, and end to shame.
To make it feel a lot less real,
a deal with the Devil, in blood must I seal.

They’ll say I died of suicide,
but no one knows how much they’ve lied.
It wasn’t a rope, a blade, or pills,
that broke my soul, and gave me chills.

I died inside so long before,
to live each day, and endless chore.
Pills could not kill what was already dead,
a twisted soul, an empty head.

In darkness, I wait, in silence, alone,
rose-tinted nostalgia, all around me has grown.
I beckon the devil, with the key of self-harm,
and I open the door for him, with the blood of my arm.

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