It’s that rush you get,
When you draw the blade across yourself,
You want that pain to help,
Not wanting to kill oneself.

You cut and cut,
It’s almost like a drug,
Your addicted, won’t stop,
Can’t sweep it under the rug.

Feeling the blood flow,
It’s almost like ecstasy,
Life slowly slipping away,
Wanting to leave the misery.

Your vision going black,
Your still on a high,
Everything is fading,
All you want to say is goodbye.

Then you come around,
Dry blood on your arms and floor,
Blade still in your hand,
Still alive, what for?

So you’ll do it all again tomorrow,
You’ll draw that blade across yourself,
Wanting that pain to help,
Not wanting to kill oneself.