Venting

I am a cutter
I bleed, no surprise
I can't shed tears
don't ask me why.

Voices haunt the temples
of my warped head
I can't stop the razor
because it wants me dead.

I am a slave
to a shiny piece of plastic
I've spent five years
trying to break the habit.

It's not that simple
to stop and walk away.
The pain I feel inside
makes me want to stay.

I know it's bad
do you think I like the scars?
I'm a sick individual
captivated by self harm.

I know my problem
and what I'm doing wrong
I'm just so tired
I don't want to be strong.

I hope one day
the hurt will cease
but until that faithful time
the blade owns me.

It doesn't help to lie
I'm done pretending.
I don't need constructive criticism
I'm just venting.