The cold silver blade sits there in front of me.
I know what its job is, and what it has to do to me.
Picking up the blade with two of my fingers.
Tracing the blade gently across my other fingers.

Bringing the blade up to my lips, and giving it a soft kiss.
I smile and know, the blade will soon bring me amazing bliss.
The blade from my hand, goes down to my wrist
And with the pressure from my hand, I push the blade down on my wrist.

I inhale some air, and drag the blade beautifully across my wrist.
I exhale, and breathe, as the beauty of the blood, drips down from my wrist.
I look down at the blood that is falling onto the floor.
I feel ashamed and cry, and fall down to the floor.

Unable to stop the pain in my heart, I take the blade to my wrist
As I cry a hundred tears, for the pain that I am causing, I continue to cut my wrist.
For all the hurt I am causing others, I bring that pain to myself.
For all the pain I have caused others, I know that I deserve to punish myself.

Losing control as the cuts become deeper.
Trying to catch my breathing, but it just keep getting harder.
Finally I lose it, and throw the blade across the room.
I sit myself up, and walk over to the bath room.

I wash off my wrist, and take care of the damage I have caused to myself.
Knowing deep down, I deserved to do worse to myself.
I stand there, and look in the mirror ashamed of what I have done.
Only wishing it was enough, to be completely done.