Cutting

The razor dances on her skin
Creating patterns of red
Oozing from separated flesh
Making her smile
Making her cry

The blood is like a drug
She can never have enough
Once she sees that first drop
She craves for more
Ignoring the stinging
Ignoring the pain of the blade

When it cuts deep
Seeing the crimson liquid
Makes it worth while
Then she's done
And the tears spill
The hurt returns

Her skin is red and puffy
Fresh, raw scars
Long sleeves to hide them
So no one will know
She's fine
She's fine
She's happy.