TW When life gives me lemons I have trouble making lemonade I mean when life is difficult who makes lemonade We all look for an escape My escape lies within the knife on the counter When I’m frustrated and sad The whispers increase The tingling in my arm The shaking of my hand I want one thing and that is too cut Quickly I grab the knife The blade is cool in my hands I lock myself behind a door I’m all prepared I run the blade accros my skin Once Twice Thrice I run it over and over in different spots The blood runs down my arm The sensation of peace comes quickly Final whispers wandered away without care