Just One More

One cut, I tell myself looking in the mirror.
Just one is all I need then never again.
I take the blade and make the cut.
The feeling hurts but feels so good.
Just one more, I think outloud.
I place the blade just above my first cut.
I make the mark and see the blood.
I smile to myself and say just one more.
Hours pass with this same ruitine.
And 5 then 10 then 20 more cuts.
All up my arm from my wrist to my shoulder.
Bloods being lost put the pains gone away.
Numbness takes over and the room fades to black.
Who knew that just onelast cut could turn to one last breath.