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Explinations From a Cutter
And if I could close my eyes,
Relive the pain, glory, and shame,
Maybe I'd know why.
But I can't undo these chains,
And forever is the life in which
I bring on all this pain.
But I don't torture you.
No, I don't make you feel
The pain inside that I let out
With a slash above the wrist.
I do this only to myself,
So who are you to judge?
I try to stop these shaking hands,
Try to make them hold the knife the other way.
Still, when I weep,
The slice is deep,
And the blood that spills comforts me
In its own sick, morbid way.
So would you ever understand?
Would you even try?
Or do you just regard me as
A lost cause of a lie?