She cried as she slashed at her skin,

It wasn’t the razor that hurt her but the feeling of sin.

She wished she didn’t have to do this,

But how else would she feel bliss?

As she washed it with warm water,

She felt the happiness she so chased after,

In the sting of the wound

And the burn as it cooled.

She knew it was wrong,

She knew it, but she couldn’t stop, she wasn’t strong.

She loved the scars it left

And the way it made her deaf

To the world with so much hurt,

So much pain.

She loved how, even for a second, all her demons were slain.