I always have tears in my eyes
Because no one hears my silent cries
I sit alone in my room at night
Reflecting on the past
So many cuts on my arm
Just a reminder that I self-harm
I really just want to die
I pray to God to take my life
But he only hears me cry
I could end all of my strife
With just one little slice from the knife
Everyday I slip further into a state of depression
My cuts are just a reminder of my deadly obsession
Each one tells a story
Of my painful journey through life
Every night I go to sleep and pray that I'll never wake up
But I'm always disappointed when I awake
And find that I'm still alive
Don't be afraid of my crimson cuts
They're just my form of art
Look closely and they paint a picture
Of my weak and withered heart
