Sunday, April 16, 2006
I see a blade upon the floor,
I pick it up to use some more.
This blood stained blade is mine again,
It's simply now just a question of when.
I go and find my own little place,
my heart jumps and picks up pace.
The first cut seams to get worse,
the price I pay to shed my curse.
Now the blood has stared to pour,
My pains release; I want some more.
So I cut again; It forms a cross,
I spread the cut; Increase the loss.
I call the devil to release my sin,
to trade my soul; a life will begin.
So I've decided to cut these wrists,
I'm sure it will end all of this.