• The colorless cold feeling of this now empty room,
    Consumes my fragile shattered heart
    Making me of it's own,
    And forcing me into the surreal surrender of the blade
    Having been asked countless times if pain still shocks me,
    This time I am careful, as I wish to find out
    But as I slide this steel over my arm,
    All that still stings me is the cold of the blade
    The feelings of afterward are divine
    For but one moment there is no regret
    Then I see beneath the bleeding skin,
    Far down to the soul beneath the pain
    I see a sorrow filled broken heart
    Everything...all the blame of others, and the pain
    That a simple fragile soul
    Could never let go of.
    I see the cold memories,
    Of a past without love,
    Nobody there to hold her shaking hands
    And nobody to take the razor from her.
    While she bled
    And her hope and faith Slowly rolled off her arm
    In tear drops
    Of the bright red liquid
    Every time she tries
    To see beyond the fear of waking up
    She wakes and finds herself
    Bathing in the sticky red liquid...her own blood.
    Once again
    Trying so hard has gotten the best of her
    And she has carved another meaning into her wrist...
    For future reference.