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