Cut

I grasp my scissors,
Wishing to bleed,
A stream of blood,
From my arms.

To take away the sadness,
The pain and agony.

I fight the urge,
To create a pool of blood.
My happiness,
It all fades away into a dark world of chaos.

I look around,
No one in sight,
No one to love me,
No one to hug me.

I'm crazy like always,
Always wrong.
The jet-black thoughts are back,
To kill me both emotionally and physically.