• Fate of a Knife in a Cutter's Hands

    I taste the blood on the end of the blade.
    Knowing its my own, but its a price thats paid.
    I feel it seep deeper into my skin.
    I don't hold back and take the pain within.
    I feel a cold rush as the cut elongates.
    The next move I make will determine my fate.
    My mind is becoming weak and numb.
    Now you see this is the monster that I've become.
    Everything is turning pitch black,
    But theres no way for me to turn back.
    The crimson blood is pouring through.
    As of this point there's nothing I can do.
    Except for bleed my way out of the pain.
    And never see the light of day again.
    Or awake from this and survive.
    With scars only to show who I really am inside.
    As the blade touches my skin I think once more.
    How much more blood will have to be poured?
    How much more suffering will I put myself through?
    And will this end up being a battle that I can only lose?
    The addiction inside me is aching for more blood.
    /as the tears inside me overflow like a flood.
    As I grip the handle deciding what to do next.
    My heart is racing towards its last and final breath.
    What will I decide will I ever stop?
    The only way to know is if the knife ever gets dropped...