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No one needs to know the way you feel,
And no one needs to know how you deal.
With fresh cuts dripping red,
You're sitting, wishing you were dead.

You feel ashamed,
And your mother is who's blamed.
For she verbally abuses you,
Now you have cuts,
Not one, but two.

your father doesn't live with you,
Do you miss him?
You do.

You blame yourself for their separation,
And you begin your preparation.

Across your wrist you slash the blade,
And look at the fresh cut you just made.

You start crying,
And even though you're trying,
You can't stop.

You keep slashing,
And it seems as though the lights are flashing.
Your arms drips red once again,
On the blade, you depend.

One final cut to end this all,
One final cut to make you fall.
You get dizzy and fall to the floor,
Just as your damn mother opens the door.

The last thing she saw was red,
And you, lying there...Dead

FIN =]