Cut

I'm more scared,
More scared than my wrist is.
See iv been using to dull of a knife,
But i'll b sure tonight to sharpen it twice.

I see the blood drip down my arm,
They i turn and it goes to my palm.
Doing this makes my happy,
I suppose my mind is a bit scrappy.

When i cut,
I get a good feeling in my gut.
I see the brilliant red,
It's all that goes on inside my head

Cut...Cut...Cut...