Slide the razor across my skin,
Self destruction, a blissful sin,
I love to feel the sting, again and again.
Red pours out, Reminding me that I am alive.
I'm a waste of space, emotionless.
Except when the red pours out.
Then I'm here, with no doubt.
So let the blade kiss my skin.
I want it, I need it, I like it.
I'll never quit it.
Some call it a horrid habit,
I say it's a guilty pleasure,
But it's my life.
It's my hand,
It's my knife.
I beg you,
Let the steel slice my skin,
Let me feel alive again.