The same feeling is growing in my heart,
There is a voice screaming it in my head;
I haven't stopped thinking on that word
Since the blood came from the first cut.
I regret that I did it,
I'll regret after I do it again;
The razor is there,
Waiting to cut me again.
I can't actually blame the razor,
Because I'm doing the cuts myself;
The cold metal is just the door
To the one I'm going trying to escape.
I know it won't fix what's screwed,
But I need to do it again;
Another cut wont kill me,
And it will help me feel something else.
The razor is back on it's case,
My thigh is bleeding again;
These new cuts are a little bit deeper,
And I'm taking in silence it's pain.
Slowly numbing me it helps.
Hopefully nobody will notice them,
That's why I'm cutting on the leg.
I'ts easier to hide the cuts under jeans,
And it can also seem like they are there from some mistake.
