People say they cut themself a to cope with what’s beneath the surface,

But what about cutting to find comfort under the surface ,

When your thoughts are blurred and foggy,

When your body’s on hyperactive,

And you cut,

You slash and scrape but not becuase you your coping with the pain,

Becuase you can’t recognize your own pain,

It’s as if your heart is shouting to you but it’s a million miles away,

So you cut,

Maybe if you dig deeper the thoughts will come out,

Your heart will be closer,

Your mind will be clearer,

So you cut until there’s blood on your hands,

But instead of your thoughts being louder they’re gone,

All that’s left is emptiness,

And blood