I go on about my night,
as if nothing had happened to me.
i go on as if i didn't try to do anything,
that could have killed me.
I just go on about my night cutting at my wrists,
I watch the blood come from my cuts
if it didn't bring me more pain when it did.
but for now its the only thing that makes me feel alive
even though i will have the scars for life.
I'm sure it wasnt a very good poem.
