The razor won’t save you from the hurt and the pain.
You’ll still feel alone,
You’ll still feel ashamed.

The blood calms the moment,
The red colors your life,
Cause nothing’s as good as the cool of the knife.

The first time is deceitful,
You’ll feel better- then worse.
You know it was stupid but your thoughts have dispersed.

A moment of calm.
A miracle at least.
Your mind takes a break, the cut tamed the beast.

Or that’s what you’ll think,
Every night since the first.
Just cut once a week, it couldn’t get worse.

But that’s the mistake,
Thinking you’re in control.
That’s just how it starts,
That’s how it takes hold.

You cry just to cut.
You cut just to cry.
The secrets and scars become too much to hide.

You dread someone seeing,
But want someone to know,
You don’t even think you could ever let go.

The razor has won,
It has stolen your trust.
Your love for the razor has turned into lust.

You’re not suicidal,
You don’t want to try,
But you wonder, just wonder,
What it’d be like to die.


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