why won’t you just leave me alone?
why do you care so much for me?
why won’t you just let me die?
why won’t you just let me be?
why can’t you just understand?
why do you want me to live?
why do you see me as special?
why do you have so much love to give?
why was it that you stopped me?
why did you take the knife away?
why did you hide all of the pills?
why did you beg me to please stay?
why was it that you kept me here?
why was it that your worried for me?
why doesn’t anyone else care?
why do they all just laugh at me?
why is it that you kept me living?
why did you save me from dying?
why do you love me soo much?
why do you keep telling me that your not lying?
What I Do
i take out a knife and check out its sharpness.
i set it down and wash my wrists.
i tighten my hand into a fist and bend it back.
i pick up the knife and hold it tightly with my free hand.
i place the knife’s blade face down on my wrist.
i press the blade down firmly into my skin.
i slowly pull the blade down my skin, forming a cut.
i check the cut for signs of blood.
i repeat this cutting process over and over until i bleed.
i repeat this cutting process over and over again until i die.
i sit alone, in my room, staring at the ceiling.
i watch as shadows are cast in the corners.
and wish that i could disappear into them.
i feel invisible, like a ghost hovering through space,
i feel dead, cold and breathless, my body’s out of place.
i feel alone, like no one cares, as i watch everyone pass me by.
so i sit here, drink these pills, slit my wrists, and wait to die.
i have one best friend, one true friend who will never leave me.
one friend who is always there for me, and always helps me breathe.
this friend was found in the kitchen, this friend was found in a drawer.
this friend was found in darkness, do i really need to say more?
he has teeth and he bites, but only when he takes away my pain.
and the only clue that’s left over is the cut along my vein.
he’s there for me in sadness, and in sickness and in health.
he’s there when i am happy, and when i am by myself.
he is with me always, his clues, a reminder of sorts.
he helps me to feel better, and shows no emotions or remorse.
of friends, he is the best, you see, one that you can adore.
he has even made me a great promise…
someday he’ll take away my pain for good and ever more.
he is Mr. Knife
I’ve grown tired of crying, so my blood is the next thing to run.
Cuts so deep and blood so red that I can finally take my mind off of you.
But it doesn’t last, so I cut again until the image of you fades away.
It doesn’t last long, but theis release of emotions lets me feel alive again.
I sit and watch the blood run down my arms and keep it flowing till I feel faint.
Now I’m finally free.