I feel the cold relieving blade against my skin
Grit my teeth, apply pressure and it cuts in
Deeper and deeper but never too far
Not just an physical, but an emotional scar
Dragging the metal left to right
No one will find out this late at night
The scars I'm left with are my own fault
They've nothing to do with the self mutilation cult
I did not follow them or mimic their actions
Because I'm depressed only accounts for a fraction
I did it for my own reasons, not to mention
The fact they thought I did it for attention
The anger that I feel, I had to let it out.
I felt I couldn't talk, or even scream & shout
I felt so alone, there's no one else like me
But I was wrong, and that is plain to see
People make entertainment from me
They won't leave me alone, or let me be
They like to see how much I can take
Before I give up, and snap, and break
"You do it for fun" "you do it for fun"
Oh really? Maybe next time I'll use a gun
Or hide on my own, that's it! I'll just run
Far from this life, far from this shell
Far from the strife, far from this hell
The only possession I will carry
Is the knife
The one that caused other peoples pain
but rid me of mine
The scars that are left
Are a simple sign
The tool I use when I'm feeling so low
The one I used, but should have told myself no
I tried to resist, but the temptation was too great
I was going to use it, it was almost fate
Knife in my wrist, there was no going back
The blood had spilled, all emotion I lack
I didn't feel pain, I only felt relief
This is all that helps me, its my only belief.
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