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You think you have to let It loose.

You're right.

Otherwise It takes over.

When It comes for me, I don't remember what It's done.

Our Demons are as close as we are.

Maybe the same.

Maybe thats why I'll never hurt you.

Maybe because It sees Itself in you.

In us.

But you see, when you let it loose on yourself

You're hurting me too.

Every time you cut into your own flesh,

You slice me open and I bleed.

Every time I hear the despair you carry within

Mine grows stronger.

My own Demon wants to see you fall.

Give in.

Kill yourself.

Well fuck It, and fuck yours too.

I love you, you hear me? And he loves you.

We fought for you, remember?

And you piss me off because you aren't strong enough.

And then I hate myself for that.

You are in my soul, do you understand?

I can feel you deep within me, the voice in my head that tells me to fight It, fight the Demon.

Am I your voice? Is he? Do you ever listen?

The worst part, is that you know what you're doing.

You know that every time I see the lines, the scars, the pain,

I feel them, WE feel them.

Your lover, your best friend, yourself.

You are killing us all.

My Demon is awake now, because of what you did.

It makes these words angry, when I meant them to be loving.

But how can I love you when I can see it?

See the knife, see the flesh part and the blood well up.

My senses hunt for it.

Smell, touch, even taste.

Don't you see, It wants your blood.

Every time you do this you feed it.

Sometimes I can't even tell if it's the Demon or me.

Maybe I am the Demon.

Maybe It took over long ago.

Maybe it's me that craves the feel of human flesh dying in my hands.

Maybe it's my dreams that are filled with blood and death and sex.

Maybe It just joined along for the ride.

Maybe one day I'll catch you doing it and instead of stopping you I'll just sit and watch.

Maybe I'll join in.

Can you see it?

Two souls, two Demons, two knives.

Two broken spirits.

It gets harder to fight, I know that.

Even those who were once safe from me are no longer sacred.

I felt It rise to a friend.

I'm losing control.

My knife is ready, give the word.

Let me take your Demon, drag it down with mine to Hell,

The three of us can free you.

He can protect you.

If I could, I would take your pain, take each drop of blood you spill, and drink it all down.

Take it into myself, then release it, satisfy it, sate it's thirst for blood.

I'd die to save you if I could.

BUT I CAN'T AND YOU KNOW IT!

So stop it.

Stop the cutting. Stop the abuse.

Because from now on, for every time you reach for that false, silvertongued friend, I will too.

Twice.

And I'll tell him.

And I will kiss every single hurt you inflict on yourself and bring that pain into myself.

I'm lying, of course.

I'd never put that guilt on you.

My Demon is feeding off me, off the pain I feel for you.

It's angry because I know what It is.

I know how to destroy It.

I love you so much, my friend, my soul.

Please, please, for all our sakes', let me help you.

You don't deserve to rot while a Demon tears away your soul piece by piece.

Peace by peace.

It doesn't need you, you know. It won't fight to keep you if you force it out.

You have a good soul, your rage is controllable.

You WILL be free, if I have to tear the damn thing out of your mind myself.

Because every time you hurt yourself,

You're hurting me.