taboo deja vu.

How deep do I cut?
I don’t know, deep enough to feel real.
Why can’t I stop?
I don’t know, once a cutter always a cutter.
Why the scars.
I don’t know, the scars remind us we have a past.
Why the blood.
I don’t know, to remind us we really are alive I suppose.
Why do I feel so numb?
So that crimson freedom can make you feel so real.
So that silver friend can get you through a hard time.
So you don’t go insane.
These questions I have answered.
Now please let me be.
I have things to do.
And smiles to lie.
But please darling don’t let me die.
Give me that evil eye.
And baby please don’t cry.
I wish we could just fly.
And die.
One last question before my goodbye.
You cut,
Why cant I.
See my scars.
Bars across my heart
These cuts are a work of art
Before I depart.
Take a look at my bleeding heart.
Your too smart to not see,
The damage you cause.
I applause you
For keeping your secret so long.
You are me.
And I am you.
We cant undo.
Our taboo.
Deja vu.
Because im addicted to
Knowing I can cut through
The numb feelings.
Of death.