The changing of the seasons,
Brings new fears to mind,
I linger on a memory or feeling,
Then slowly sink inside myself.
I drink to numb the harshness,
Of a world which is fading away,
Then i smoke to bring the pain back,
And then i start my day again.
I often ask myself why i crave the pain,
The cool feel of steel upon my skin,
An intake of breath as i draw it across,
Sweet release as i sink once again.
There simply is no answer to give myself,
On why i cut up my skin and feel that rush,
Not a rush of joy Not a rush of pain,
Simply a rush to prove that i am still alive.
Yet as i start my day again slowly step by step,
I know there is no need to cut to let the blood,
No rhyme nor reason to seek that rush of life,
For No rush can bring back a soul which is gone.
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