I Am A Cutter

You thought you knew me,
As you walked by.
You took one glance,
And never asked why.

You saw the scars,
That I tried to hide.
But you never did try,
You never asked why.

Everyday I sit and cry,
Alone in my room.
I take out the razor,
I make hundreds of cuts.

The Blood drips and drips,
I bleed crimson tears.
The razor is my life,
It helps keep me alive.

Maybe I could quit,
If someone only cared.
Just enough to talk to me,
And find out how and why.