On Wrist Cutting

You see my scars, and think I’m damaged?
Sit back; let me tell you how it happened.
Yes, I put the blade to my skin, but it’s not how you think.
I never intended to put my life on the brink.
Just wanted to get the pain from the inside out.
Because you see, when you’re in a world of hurt
That you cover up with smiles,
It becomes hard to let it out, even when you’re alone.
The shadows dance around like demons in the night.
All I needed was a moment of release and then I’d be alright.
So I would grab the razor blade and bring in to my arm.
I would make a little mark and feel the sting but,
It wasn’t to be emo; it was to keep me sane.
That little twinge of pain made it easier to cope.
I was experiencing something else, other than sadness.
And in just a second after, I would see the bright red blood.
It made me feel safe, like somewhere in my body there was life.
I was living in there, while I sat out here dying.
It wasn’t for attention; I didn’t want people to see.
But sometimes things go wrong, and I accidentally cut to deep.
Too ashamed I sat there, watching my body bleed.
Purging itself of everything and anything I didn’t need.
That was the last time I brought the razor to my skin.
I needed to heal and this battle, I was sure I would win.
So as I reminder of the road I used to travel,
I went and got a tattoo, and watched my demons unravel.
Beauty from Pain my wrist cries out.
No matter how much it hurts, something beautiful comes about.