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I turned to you when I needed to hide,
when I was hurting inside.

I once was able to cry in your arms,
now I am alone, lost in the dark.

The blade is my friend,
the only thing that helps me feel.

I am in control now,
as the blade slices cleanly.

A euphoria I've longed for,
my fix, my temporary high.

I feel hollow, a shell, barely existing,
all I want is to feel something.

Pain is something I can handle,
it's better than nothing.

I miss the sting, the blood,
somehow it soothes me.

My whole life is empty,
all I want is to exist.

I don't want to die,
only to feel.

I watch the blood drip,
my high is gone now,
replaced by the all too familiar numbness.

Can you help me feel?
Can you help me stop bleeding?

I don't want to hurt myself,
but I don't know how else to feel.

Don't know any other emotion,
pain is familiar now, inside and out.

I used to fight the urges,
try to keep myself from cutting.

But why do I fight it?

Why fight the pain?

Would anyone care if I bleed,
if my arms are covered in scars?

Alone in the dark, voices in my head,
my own self-doubts and hatred.

No one is here to hold me back.
no one to wipe away the blood,
no one to kiss my crimson tears.