She's proud of herself but she won't tell you why.
Its been a week since she last even tried
But the voice don't stop and today they've won
Will she go for a razor, or and it all with a gun
After hours of crying and arguing with herself
She gives in and opens a hidden box on her shelf
Overwhelmed with emotions, she selects her blade
Oddly delighted with the choices she's made
So once again she takes a razor to her vein
Without flinching or feeling any pain
Well, there is a pain of course, but its mistaken for praise
She is lacking in judgemqent because the feeling of daze
She sits there emotionless, blood pouring from her wrist
Giving into the feelings she's so long resist
A smile crosses her face, as it spills down her arm
She's caught up in the evil we know as self harm.
