Sometimes hidden beneath soft cotton,
Small enough, but not forgotten.
A way to feel,
To escape the pain that's oh-so real.
Sometimes formed by a battle within,
That you feel was lost the moment you carved in.
There's no shame in wanting escape,
There's no one coming to save you in a crimson cape.
The emotional pain,
Surpassing past what you can sustain.
Brain screaming at the heart,
Asking why they can't just part.
Heart yelling to the mind up top,
“We said we wouldn't do this, we said we'd stop!”,
All the while the hand reaches for a blade,
Sticks it to skin in it's misguided crusade.
The darkest hour,
Where sweet turns sour,
Where reason is forsaken,
And reality sets in.
The feeling of guilt,
Eyes burning from stray tears spilt.
The overwhelming thought of the time you'd spend,
To find a way to go back to fix and to mend.
The relief felt from the cold blade is fleeting,
And the sting of regret in every way defeating.