Some Call It Crazy

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Some call it crazy,

Some say it’s sick,

but I think it’s freedom,

the pain is fierce, but quick.

 

Some say that it’s a sin,

just a little to risqué.

But it helps to release the pain

that I go through every day.

 

The blade is sharp and cold

as it runs across my skin.

Leaving me to ponder

and wonder how deep I cut in.

 

The icy chill running down my spine

makes me feel at ease.

I no longer feel like a coward,

Screwing up with every breath I breathe.

 

Some days I do want to stop,

feeling like everything’s wrong.

Trying to let go of the blade,

Sometimes I can, but not for long.

 

It’s like an addiction to the pain.

The feeling takes refuge in my veins,

leaving me feeling confused and alone.

Wiping at the streaking tears that seem to stain.

 

Burned into my skin forever,

becoming a part of me that I can never escape.

Sometimes I just want to hurt all over.

To scream at the top of my lungs until they break.

 

I want to escape from my sadness.

It’s taking over me.

Why can’t I just rest?

Why won’t it let me be?

 

All I want is to just be free.

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