As my body cries out for another mark
It misses the sting and the flow of blood outside my body
The small blade that I used to keep my hand
That made such a big difference
I don't want to, but my thighs cry to me
They scream "more"
"I'd love to feel the sting of an open wound"
The sight of the beautiful crimson blood
You don't have a blade so you use a sharp knife
Then you think about the pain it will cause people
The pain it will cause you
Because, it brings you more pain to see the scars
The scars that fade, but never really do
Then you think to yourself what would they think?
Would they care?
Who would notice maybe one or two?
Is it really that big of a deal?
Who would it hurt?
So you start
You start to slide the knife across your skin
But before you cut deep enough to break skin
You realize someone's watching
Who?
Everyone
So, you know you can't
So you won't
At least not now
But you hope never hope to do it again
Even though your body still cries out for a cut
You ignore it and move on
Or at least you try
You try really hard
But you can't ignore it so you don't
Sadly your hands won't bring you to do it
So again you drop the knife
And start to cry
But only because you can't stop the cries from your body
It makes you want to stop the cries forever
Then, you think if you can't cut yourself what makes you think you can kill yourself
You listen to the smart part of you
So you call a friend and they take it off of your mind
But only for now
The cries stop but the last thing they say is
"Until next time"
And it haunts you
The words linger embedded in your brain
