Corrupt

A closed door, locked inside.
An old razor, a rusty knife.
Broken glass, broken thoughts.
Memories, a bit distraught.
Blood stained carpet, open veins.
Slowly life begins to drain.
Wrists of hatred, scarred and torn.
Your eyes on them, a cutter's porn.
Distressed minds like nuclear war.
Pushing the blade in even more.
The blood runs black, my body's cold.
Cruetly and corruption rash and bold.
Reach for the knob, pull down my sleeve.
Put on a smile you'll all believe.
We ask the question, how far can one go?
When the door doesn't open, I guess you'll know.