Poetry / My little secret

Dark secrets and depression
You guess those are just some of life’s many lessons.

Hiding at night not knowing if you’re too afraid to fight.
If you do will you win or loose?
Winning is like living for eternity.
Losing is like death slowly taking your last whispers of breath.

Staring into the darkness
Not knowing what you’ll find.
Looking for a secret, a soul…
What do you have in mind?

An angel looking over you?
Or one of Satan’s many demons trying to take over you?
What will you do?
What if he succeeds and gets you?

Crying at night
Wanting to fight.
Wanting to let it out, wanting to scream and shout.
Wanting to cry and scream.
Wanting to bleed.

For then you take your razor.
A nifty little tool.
You are scared at first.
You have never done this before.
What are you going to do?

Clenching it tight
Moving it closer to your bare skin
But not for long
Soon it will be full of sin.
You touch the cold razor onto your warm skin.
Then it starts to sink in.

A rush of excitement
A rush of pain.
Will this become a habit?
What will you gain?
Your blood is hot
It burns your skin.
Now you can clearly see your sin.

You clean it off and rub alcohol on it.
You don’t want it to be noticeable.
You don’t want people to find it.
It is your little secret
You make a new slice each night.

It’s your little secret
It’s helping you fight.
It’s your little secret you do it every night.

It’s my little secret
My razor and I.

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