I feel so numb,
I rush to my room,
The frantic thoughts in my head start to resume,
I rush to my desk and look all around,
Until a rusty razor is what I found,
I grab it with one hand, and take a seat n my bed,
As I lift up my sleeve to reveal what lays ahead,
Pale white lines that make creases in my skin,
They're there to remind me, I'll never win,
I want to feel something so I render my arm,
To the vicious temptations of committing self harm,
First I imagine the pain I will feel,
And I press down the razor to make it more real,
I imagine the red liquid that will flow from my vein,
And I wonder if I'm truly going insane,
I close my eyes tight and clench my fist,
As I drag my old razor across my wrist,
A raging pain, I remember it all too well,
As I bite back my lip to keep back a yell,
I open my eyes and look down in dismay,
As the blood keeps running without delay,
I know I'm in pain but at least I feel,
And besides in time it's going to heal,
I go to the bathroom and try my best,
To patch up my wound and clean up my mess,
I rinse off the blade and return it to it's place,
So if I need it again it's there just in case,
I lay in my bed and take one more glance at my arm,
Just another day failing victim to self harm