The real me!

I never cut my wrist 
Not that I haven't reached that point 
Trust me, sometimes I feel like complete sh*t 
I just happen to stop myself 
I guess reason stops me from painful reminders 

Maybe that's why it infuriates me sometimes 
I hear again and again 
how cutting yourself is a coward way to die 
And maybe it is...but you shouldn't judge 
If you, yourself haven't felt the misery 

But you may just scroll down 
and maybe just maybe that'd be a smart move 
Because the poet writing this poem is crazy 
She's depressed and angry 
of hearing mean words come out of stupid lips 

That's right, I used myself in third person 
But that's far from what my point is.. 
My point is this 
Pain comes out at random 
Sure it builds up but d*mn 
When it hits, it burns 
It makes you feel like nothing 
and even though you want to scream for help 
you can't! 
Because what are you going to say? 
My mind is killing me? 
Sweetheart, I rather just grab a knife and end the suffering