The cutter's life

Pain

is were I gain,

when I think

it makes me srink.

I keep seeing red

wishing I was dead.

Every morning when I wake

this is my routine I take:

Fake a smile, dry my eyes,

make my mind full of lies

Cut my thighs and not my wrists

I'm checking off my list.

Talk to no one; don't you see?

This is how I "be me."

Skip lunch, no big deal

act like my life is full of zeal.

Get home- Procrastinate,

thinking about my fate.

Choke down dinner with a smile

If only I could be here for a while

at night I go to be

still wanting to be dead,

If only I cut to deep

And finally have my eternal sleep.

~Silence~