Written on 3/21/06
Being so isolated, depression kicks in.
No fear of pain, an itch crawls in my skin.
It needs to be scratched, ever so deep.
Razor in my hand, consequences I shall reap.
I start at my wrist, and slowly move down.
Blood starts flooding, but I can’t seem to frown.
I’m smiling inside, that is just what I need.
Just some confirmation, I needed to bleed.