Enslaved

Have you ever wanted to sit with a razor blade, 
And write a bloody symphony on your arm? 
Have you ever felt your trembling heart be swayed, 
And knew it was a sign of the looming swarm? 
 
Have you ever wanted the oncoming disaster, 
And disregarded the crimson blood it drains? 
Have you ever felt your pulse beat increasingly faster, 
And that sickeningly sweet throb grow in your veins?
 
Have you ever given the beast its desire, 
And split your skin into vivid red smiles? 
Have you ever felt the urge scalding like a fire, 
And known your razor can push you through your trials? 
 
For those who don't know us, no answer explains. 
For those who know us, no answer is needed. 
There is hardly a word for the bladed chains, 
Named self harm, a master freely heeded.
 

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