Me and My Razor, and My Army of Self Harm

A close bond,
Never parting with it.
Anywhere I go,
It would go with me.
The feeling that a cutter feels,
Is something we simply cannot explain.
The pain is so awful in your head,
You feel the only way to rid the pain is to know you're still alive.
Dragging a blade across your skin,
The blood bubbling and seeping out between the cuts.
That simple choice you make,
Can honestly make everything ten times worse.
I used to feel the same,
I would bring my razor everywhere with me.
Cutting would take away the pain,
Or so it seemed.
Now I look down at my arms,
The scars remind me of that painful time.
Please everyone who is suffering;
Put down your razors.
The pills?
Flush them down the toilet.
The scale?
Put it away.
The suicide note?
Tear it up and burn it.
None of these are needed to end pain,
They won't I can promise you that.
If you are feeling hopeless and lost,
Look up at the sky and think of how far you have made it.
Remember that everyday is a new beginning,
And take advantage of that.
There is never such a thing as "Me and my razor".