Cutting

There's this thing about cutting,
When you're doing it- it feels amazing,
But afterwards they sting terribly.
For a moment,
You can feel something again,
The blood pulses,
Proving you're actually alive.
The way your body rejects it,
But mind craves it all the more,
It's so lovely yet so deadly.
Every time you cut,
You run the risk of hitting a vein,
I guess it wouldn't be that bad,
To go to sleep forever,
To be at peace after so much hate and stress in this life.
The feeling cutting gives you,
Makes it so addicting.
It's hard to stop,
Once you make that first one.
Every time you're not cutting,
You're thinking about the next time you can,
And no matter how long you go clean,
Relapse is so close you can smell it.
Cutting is so good feeling,
But so bad for you,
It takes away all the worries for a moment,
But creates fear and pain in others hearts,
Watching you waste away,
Over the art of a blade,
Going across your skin.