Metal blade

Wounded beyond repair,
no one there to fix me or care,
a ghost of the person I used to be

I'm a slave to my addiction,
my beautiful metal blade,
cuts right through my delicate skin,
pierces a lovely little line,
neat and flowing with crimson life

it kills the anxiety,
quiets my demons,
silences the pounding pain,
and gives me a wonderful release

then I'm floating above the ground,
as hooked as I am I don't care how I sound,
my perfect metal blade,
cuts through my smooth white skin,
gives me neat little red lines,
draining me of crimson life