A little worse

As i stare at the blade of that knife
and how it deals with mu strife
I'm lying in my bed
wishing i was dead
each day it gets a little worse
each day i a little part of me dies
each day i tell my little happy lies
that I'm alright
and everything will be OK
that i will not die today
and really i don't
not technically
but my insides do die
each day a little part of me dies
and a little worse i get
and one of these days ill blow i bet
now I'm stroking the blade
and watching my life slowly fade
i put the knife to my arm
and watch my arm bleed with charm
as my blood flows from the little cuts
i know each day ill get a little worse