My Addiction

There's no doubt in my mind,
That it'll get harder every time.
The longer I go without, the less kind
The monsters will be when they come.

My addiction searing on my aching wrist,
Burning, even though the scars have faded.
They still bring memories and the old pain in my fist
After it had collided with a wall because I slipped again.

Always falling backwards, never moving on.
Heavy chains holding me back, bound forever.
The bitter-sweet idea of letting a razor cut til' the pain is gone.
The high of the blood seeping through the thin tiny slits.

The metallic smell of blood, making it sickly sweet,
About to slip under, and let my addiction take control.
Let the world along with the pain bleed out, colorless with defeat.
The slick razor coming alive; to make its mark.

A permanent, beautifully twisted intricate design,
To show the world how weak and broken I am.
Even though I'm hiding behind a fake smile, everything seeming fine.
It's not though, because I'm very slowly dying inside.