Crying out blood.

There's a beating in my chest,
that never seems to die.
It just keeps pumping blood,
even when I wanna cry.

I'll pound on it,
and scream at it to stop.
But even though it doesn't,
my knees always drop.

They'd just give up, similiar to you;
and again, I'm on the floor.
Hands compressed upon my face,
as I'm headed toward the door.

I think I'm finally walking away.
Help, I will no longer need.
Maybe I'll cut myself deep enough,
so I'll do nothing but bleed.

The scars are proof that I've done it,
and it gives me satisfaction.
Hurting myself up and down;
a smile is my reaction.

Maybe I've gone crazy,
but I guess that's who I've become.
Quite frankly, I don't care;
Cause life is so dumb.