Fighting The Urge

When I become depressed,
I long for my black dress.
When I break down and cry,
Feeling like i want to die,
I would turn to my razor.
I wanted to see the blood.
And sometimes still do.
When I miss the pain,
It seems that's what I want to gain.
Even though I've stopped cutting,
Doesn't mean I don't miss it.
Sometimes I get so close to going back.
I want to disappear into some shack.
Lock myself away and don't wait for the day.
I want to cry myself to sleep.
Just continuing to weep and weep.
I still fight the urge.
The urge to go back.