I stopped cutting and slicing
at my wrists long ago.
I stopped dicing my flesh
and begging for more.
But lately I feel
like I need to start again.
And I truely believe
it's time to begin.
It's an addiction
I can't help but feel.
Because when I make that first slice
life around me feels real.
I'm pulled out of darkness
into a fiery pain,
but later on
I'm back all the same.
No one understands
why I insist on feeling pain.
Nobody can guess
my inner shame.
I hate being weak.
I hate having to feel.
Because at the end of the day,
is anything real?