Control

How can something so painful have so much control?
My sadness is making my body pay a large toll
I cause myself this suffering almost every day
I don't know why I do this, what can I say

Sometimes I need the pain more than others
The blood washes over me and its me it smothers
I have my mind preset that I need the blade
If I have a knife I think that my day is made

I hardly think before I press it to my palm
As I do this my facial expressions stays very calm
Afterwords I hate myself a little bit more
I wrap my bleeding wrists then I slam the door

"Last time," is always what I try to think
I try to stay strong but my emotions are on the brink
If I don't do it, its all I end up thinking about
When I resist the cuts I want to cry and shout

I would die if my family found out what I do
If my mom found out I would die too
I'm so upset and I can't stand being me
If I was reborn I am defiantly not who I'd choose to be