Doors.
It all starts with just one cut,
enough to end it all with another.
You never realized the pain,
until it affected every other.
The sweet release of silver on skin,
when the blood comes pouring out.
No one knows where you’ve been,
it all started with a little pout.
Life was so good when you were young,
everything seemed so great.
But now that you’re older you’ve realized
everything you loved is now all that you hate.
Nothing’s the same anymore,
everything’s all wrong.
You’ve opened another door,
you’ve been hurting for too long.
Every day you tell yourself,
“Just one more, I swear,”
You think for a while then say,
“Oh, well, it’s not like anyone cares.”
Day by day,
your arms go even redder than before.
It’s not okay;
all you have to do is open a different door.
It won’t just be your arms,
you see.
For it always spreads,
like a deadly disease.
You’ll say, “I’m fine,”
even when you’re not.
You just need some time
to gather every thought.
You’re beautiful in every way,
and you need to get help.
Don’t listen to what your head might say,
you need to help yourself.
I’ll be with you through all,
through every moment.
No matter how big or small,
it’s still an improvement.
