Pain is an acid that eats through your body
Starting in your brain and confined under your skin
Uncleaned and infecting your blood; it tries to escape
But is held a secret within
This knife is a tool of comfort and relief
Grasping harder; it clings it's wrath to my doubt
Slowly slicing through each layer
In hopes to let the pain out
Red I see as it trickles on the surface
One again, soothed by self mutilation
Turn my head; rinse the knife
Swallow the temptation
Scars linger as a memory
Testing me by the language of my wrists
Constantly under the pressure to give in
But next time I will resist
