I haven't felt your lips on my shoulder in a long time
I've kept your existence a secret from my friends as well
I fooled myself into thinking I didn't need you but I'm anything but fine
And if I use you the was I used to I'll end up in hell
This object I speak of is no significant other or friend
But this object is my only true love my silver razorblade
I've missed you so much I just had to use you again
Now hopefully this time my cuts will eventually fade
Friends and family have come and gone unlike you
You where always there for me whenever I needed you to be
When my sanity and my broken heart became unglued
Even though I tried to keep you out of my life you where apart of me
So now I have thirteen new bloody scars that are glowing red
I must keep my cuts hidden until they heal once again
But I have a strong hunch that this will lead to me being dead
Because even though this helps a lot it is a serious sin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem