I look for someone to talk to,
But all I could find is myself.
No one to talk to, no one to tell my problems to,
So I go to my room to find my only "true" friend.
A razor I found to release my pain.

I set the blade against my wrist,
Shaking, trembling.
As I slide it along my wrist, eyes closed,
I feel my skin rip blood running down.

I open my eyes to see what I've done,
Tears form in my eyes.
Why did I do this? How could this happen?
I think of my life, my family, and all that it's worth.

I come to a conclusion that my life is worthless,
My mother causing me this pain.
The only way to get rid of it is to cut,
Get rid of the pain I have but add more by cutting.

I look at my wrist with blurry eyes,
I set the blade up higher.
Put more pressure and slide it across harder,
I start to cry, what has come over me why am I causing myself this pain?

I think back to my "happy days,"
I wonder what had happened, why am I so sad.
I feel my body go limp I lay down in bed,
Razor still in hand, I fall asleep and awake to a new day.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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