William

Looking in the mirror, I see what I've done,
a million red lines, some old some new, spread out all over me.
I like to cut, with anything I can, a knife or even the top of a tin can.
Every cut relieves my stress, like a thought taken out of my head.

I cover up my arms and my legs, so no one can stare,
I don't need them to care,not about me.
If they can't see then they won't say I need help,
won't send me to a physciatrist,my brain is fine.

I look at my shower,where I cut most of the time,
it is stained red,my favorite color other than the color of steel,
oh,how I love that color,it calls to me,wanting me to use it,
and I listen,every time,I take it up and slice again and again.

sometimes just enough to break the skin,
other times so deep that I scream in pain,
but it's not just pain it is joy,
joy to be ridding myself of my painful memories.

I start to make new memories, happy memories,
With my best friend in the world,
my swiss army knife,
no matter what happens, I can always count on it.

It will be with me until I die, unlike people,
People hate me, ignore me,
But my wonderful knife listens, and I listen back.

I named him, his name is william,
and william will always love me.
and I will love him,
no matter what...