With Every Cut

When I Think I Want To Die.
I Cut Myself And Begin To Cry.
With Every Cut I Let Out A Sigh.
If You Asked Me What Happened I’ll Just Lie.

With Every Cut I Grip My Hand.
With Every Cut I Can’t Stand.

With Every Razor I’ll Make A Slit.
With Every Hammer I’ll Take A Hit.

When I Dropp The Razor And Think I’m Done.
I’ll Pick It Back Up Again, Back To Step One.

I’ll Cut Up And Down.
I’ll Do It Across.
I’ll Cut My Hand.
Dieing From Blood Loss

More Shayari by Chris New Lash
29 Aug 2008 No Comment

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