Cutting

I look down at the puddle of blood on the floor,
I cut deeper and deeper for feelings that I could once ignore.
The pain in my eyes, you’re initials in my skin,
It’s like a fight against the mirror, impossible to win.
I remember when we used to be happy, how I’ve suddenly started to regret,
Praying and wishing every night, that it would be you I’d soon forget.
These will be my final hours, I feel it as I take the knife to my vein,
Who cares what they think, they tell me I’m insane.
No one understands me, they’re as stupid as you,
In a matter of minutes I’ll be taking these pills of blue.
The cutting has stopped working, and the alcohol has too,
This is the last time I will have to hurt myself again, to try and get over you.
They’ll find me in the morning with the pills down by my side,
The way I was left, right before I died.
My wrist red and swollen with deep bloody cuts,
You’d think God must be punishing me for something I did… but what?