The Cutting Edge

Roaming around lost in a sea of thoughts
I turn to see the damage I've caused
Chaos everywhere, yet the world is still as if it were paused
Falling to the door clutching little hope
The urge is burning and I struggle to stop it
All in vein turning to those who this causes pain
Down with me they go, here with me they stay

The fight is nearly up and the sickness slithers under my skin
Digging deep into it with my sharp claws
Scratching away at the flesh
Not being able to handle anymore
I slam my fist against the floor, I beat the door
Tears are blinked away, emotions buried.
None will be seen tonight, not this time.

Storming for the drawer, we know what I'm here for
Razors, I rip apart piece by piece
If this is how I receive my peace and comfort
I pull away the clothing from my paled scarred skin
Taking the corner of the blade 
Pressing deep and tearing quick
Tear about this body for its curse, this is the only way

First nothing, then the cavity fills
Gruesomely full, the deep crimson trickles hastily down
Warm, but reeking of salt and rust

If I slip, if I'm slow, the danger zone will show
I won't get my fix, rage will be hotter than my blood
I shall press harder with tightly closed eyes
I pull with such force, struggling for a release
Even after getting what I hoped for
I'm not satisfied for I failed first

Closing my eyes tighter, I start to cry
Clutching the blade between my fingers
I press no more harder than before
Over and over till you see my skin no more
What a mess I made, what a mess I am

It starts to hurt, so I rinse down the drain is my pain
Just like the rest no one shall see my pain today
Quick and quiet, sly as can be I dispose of my clothes
Now I scrub the tub, hoping there are no remains of me
This will clean at least the tub of chaos.
I am chaos, I am destruction, I am no good.

If my tools were no where to be seen
Hastily I scramble to my feet,|
I swear I can and will be my own defeat.
Glass or pins? These knives look nice
The metal I love I press hard and deep
Into the disgusting image before me
And rip straight or curved lines, thick either way,
I let the blood flow smoothly off the curvature of my limbs
Still I wash it away all the same as before

I sneak to drawers tonight for a set of change
Hoping no one will know, no one will see.
How stupid was I to believe anyone cared so much for me?
I hoped no one would see, but who sees me?