Horrid Habit

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.

But why?

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.

So please,

I beg you,

Let the steel slice my skin,

Let me feel alive again.