I run to the bathroom and I lock the door.
As I sit on the bathroom floor,
I roll up my sleeves revealing scars and cuts as I ready to make more.
These thoughts in my head making me shake to my very core.
I grab the razor and take out the blade.
I place the blade against my skin,
I make the cut as I weakly grin.
My patience has worn oh so thin.
My hands starts to shake as the tears fall down my face.
I make more cuts as a feel like a disgrace.
And as The blood starts to pour down my arms,
I start to feel weak and I drop the blade.
I start to cry as my vision fades.
It's too late what's done is done I'm afraid.