Razor-Kissed Wrists Poem by Saray Brunette

With the razor kissed wrists
This is my bright red scream
As I press down harder blood begins to surface
I convince myself 'you don't feel pain, forget it, it's worth it'
You convince yourself that there is no pain
I try to forget
It's just my sick little game
There's white ones, red ones, fresh ones too
I'm ashamed of what I do
As time goes by they get harder to hide
More and more skin with scars on the outside
Hide them with long sleeved shirts, it covers them up but doesn't take away the hurt
It hurts the same when nobody knows; it's just the way it goes
Cut to feel alive, it's something I know is real
It's something I wish I could hide, something I didn't have to feel
When things get too bad it's first instinct to just cut away
Cut away, make some new scars to just get through the day
This time it got out of hand, cut too deep and can hardly stand
Losing way too much blood and I begin to fall
This will be my little secret; I won't say anything at all.