Self-mutilation

Sweaty palms

Uneven breaths

Tremoring hands and legs

Heavy beating in my chest

Dead and numb

Fingertips, stale and old

Afraid to breath

Because the air is so cold

The world spins

Fast and stills quickens

Each time I inhale

My thinning blood thickens

Toes tingle

And knees become weak

My mind cannot think

And my mouth cannot speak

The pale silver moon

In its sharp crescent form

Makes the blood in my wrists

Flow and grow warm

I begin to feel powerless

As I lose control

The ache in my heart

Reaches down to my soul

Words of encouragement

Fade away in my mind

I begin to forget

All those people so kind

As I hold in my hands

This sharp piece of steel

I care not about letting

My former wounds heal

The sharp edge of the blade

Penetrates my bare skin

My sadness released

And my anger and sin

I care not about safety

I care not about health

I care only for blood

And I have that in wealth

I look at my wrist

Stained red and swollen

From my torn open flesh

The devil has stolen

All sense of hope and worth

That I ever could find

He took it all out

Though I really don’t mind