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Razor’s edge
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Self-Harm Alone I’m falling,
the shadows have come for me.
Voices in my head,
memories I’ve buried,
come back from the dead.
All alone here,
the blood welling on my arm,
no one here to hold me as I fall.
No one’s here to take the razor from my hand,
as the blood drips down my arm.
Silken veins, skin so smooth,
the blood brings me to life.
Only for a moment,
the numbness lifts,
just for a second,
I’m not dead anymore.
I’ve been bleeding here too long,
the caressing sting brings comfort,
warmth I’ve never known.
Dance with death,
the blade’s soft song,
a story written in blood,
a lullaby from the razor’s edge.
