Struggles

As I pick up the blade,
A thought runs through my head,
Would I be better of alive,
Or would it be best to be dead?

Then I snap back to reality,
I dont think anymore,
I just look at the shine of the knife,
And then I look at the floor.

Thats the floor of blood once lost,
I realise Im not really living,
Not the way that I have been,
So metal pierces skin and blood starts dripping.

At first there is a sting,
A pain I have felt before,
I have done it so much,
But I still want more.

The creamy carpet now seems red,
And the walls are now cracked and broken,
People wonder how it is so bad,
I simply say it cant be explained by words spoken.

I yell and I scream to release the anger,
But the harder I try, the harder it gets,
But even through this struggle,
I will try to never forget.

Coz I want to make a note,
That I once was weak,
So when I look back,
I realise I got through because ofthese words I speak.