The urge to cut is too strong.
I want to take the blade to my skin,
and smile as it slices away flesh,
laugh as the blood pours from my soul.
My soul was unloved,
unwanted, it was unneeded,
sounds a lot like me.
My soul has left and now,
it wonders.
My body is here,
but where am I?
Watching the blade glide
Across my skin
Makes me smile
Makes me cringe
I start to cry when
the blood hits the floor
But I just can't stop
I cut once more...
(I don't know who wrote this)
morbid_apathy Community Member 
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