My Addiction

I'm addicted to the way it feels,
With the knife across my wrist,
And how the blood runs slowly,
Down my Tightened fist,

Its hard to stop cutting,
And i don't know why,
But when I start to cut,
All I do is cry,

They stare at me with disbelief,
Wondering why I do this,
They thought i was so happy,
But I regret that fake bliss,

I promised to myself over and over,
To never do it again,
But pain got the best of me,
now left are the scars on my skin