When I say " i want to cut"
They say "get over it"
I let them treat me like a mutt
Even if the words hit
I remember in fifth grade
This girl I knew was a cutter
The scars where self made
Her body slit like butter
When she first told me
And asked if I did the same
I said no and let it be
I thought she was insane
But now I realized what it was
For me it's an addiction and I can't let go
She is still alive but uses drugs instead of knives
I can't let go even if I wanted so
I better not get my hopes to high
For suicide is the easy way out
Because next time I might fly
And I have no doubt
-Nico (me)
