I Search High and Low For My Razor
My Love I Will Once Again Call Upon
She Looks As Beautiful As When I Used Her In November
You Will Be My Only Escape The Cuts Shall Be Deep and Long
Scar Tissue Is What's Left Of My Battle Scars
I Long To See My Sweet Crimson Blood
They Go Down My Arms Like Bars
I Want It To Spill and Flow Like A Flood
I On My Beautiful Frozen Veins
The Blood Defrosts Them It Is As Warm As A Summer Day
As First It Stings I Do This Not For Any Fame
The Pain Leaves Even Though I Beg It To Please Stay
The Pain Makes Me Relize That I'm Not Dead
I Love It The Feeling Of The Blade Breaking The Skin
Sick Of All The Lies and Deciet I've Been Fed
I Don't Care If This Is A Sin
Next I Will Reopen Old and Scabbing Wounds
My Skin Covered In Healing Wounds and Dents
You May Say That I Am Crazy and A Loon
All This Because Of The Way I Vent
No Spot On My Body Is Safe From My Love The Razorblade
Now I Shall Wait Until They Heal So I Can Do It Again
Soon My Cuts and Scars Shall Fade
If You Think T I Will Ever Stop This Your Mistaken
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i can relate to your poem....beautiful poem.