I'm Not Afraid

There was a question you asked me,
You asked me with glee in hope I'd be okay,
But what you heard and what you saw wasn't happy,
The sorrow I felt, the sorrow you seen was said not to be me,
But as I looked into your eyes,
The truth was there behind them,

My wrists were not bear,
The scars were not always there,
The silvering lines against my skin,
Was what you always feared,
The blade, the pain, the fear,
My voice you could hear,

"Why did you do this to yourself?" you asked,
I spoke with as much confidence as I could,
I told you the words that scattered into my mind.
"I'm not afraid to die"
That was partly true,
but so much more truth needed to be said.

"It seems to be the only thing I can do right"
The feel of the blade against my wrist wasn't pain,
It made me shiver of the thought,
The way it felt,
Not bad,
But the pleasure I received from the cuts upon my skin.

It was unleashing the fear,
Unleashing the mental pain,
But as I told you once,

I'm not afraid of death, I want it to come. I don't want it to hide.