Standing On The Edge

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To pour out all this pain,

I don’t know any other way

Than to slit the skin upon me

To make it say what I can’t say.

A nostalgic type of feeling

My heart constricts within my chest

And it crashes down upon me

Because dying’s what I do best.

A never ending circle

I’m stuck inside this rut,

It keeps me up at night

And makes me itch to make the cut.

They always toss me to the side

Because no one wants what’s broken

And they do not seem to care

That I can hear what’s left unspoken.

Because there’s thoughts between their words

And truth between their lies,

And I can see what they keep hidden

Because it gleams within their eyes.

They say they really want me,

But that’s just one more spoken lie,

It’s their eyes that scream the truth:

They don’t care if I die.

But this cutting isn’t something

That I hope will end my life,

It’s an awful side-effect

That I find relief within a knife.

I do not want attention,

This isn’t a sick game,

I’m not mutilating flesh

So they’ll finally know my name.

It just hurts like hell inside

With nothing outside I can show,

Of the torment that I feel

That no one cares to know.

These scars wouldn’t be so hidden

If someone stopped to look

But they just see right through me

While I swallow sinker, line, and hook.

I’m yearning for affection

As I walk this razor’s edge

And if only for a moment,

For someone to pull me from this ledge.

Because I don’t want to fall,

But everyone’s pushing at my back

And I’m about to lose my footing

Lose the life that I have lacked.

So maybe these are my last words,

My whispered last goodbye,

That no one cares to hear

As they shove me off the side.

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