Bleeding Out My Soul

Bleeding out my soul.

The gleam of the knife is shining bright.

I know that I'm going to cut this night.

I can't explain why I must slice my skin.

It is a strong urge that I have within.

I glide the knife across my flesh, there is no pain.

The drops of blood is what I want to gain.

Slowly, the knife cuts deep into the arm.

I don't want to die, I just want to harm.

The blood is my soul freeing itself from the past.

The euphoria of seeing it, I wish it could last.

It is over now and I feel such disgust and shame.

The beast of this addiction I cannot tame.

Why do I do this? The pain always returns.

My soul is trapped again, the urges burn.

I can't stop. I've tried and I've tried.

My good intentions are always denied.

One of these days my soul will really be free.

And I can find out about the real me.

Until that day comes I'll be seduced by the blood.

Cutting and burning in the memories that flood.

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