Razor

Taking the blade,
Placing it on my arm,
No I’m not stupid,
Just a bit of self-harm.

Pressing down gently,
See the blood pour,
Once twice I lose count,
Arm starts to feel sore.

Tissues at the ready,
To stop the red stream,
All the thoughts in my head,
To go to far would be my dream.

People noticing what I’ve done,
Pretending that they care,
They no nothing about my life,
They can take a look if they dare.

Every night is the same,
Take out my blade,
Look at my arm,
Where there are scars already made.

Pressing down gently,
See the blood pour,
Once twice loose count,
Arm starts to feel sore.