The first time I cut myself was
When he touched me without my approval,
The second time followed by
The luxury of body shaming, I couldn't handle.
The third time happened because of
The broken heart was bothersome,
The fourth time I went for it
Cause my dreams were crushed!
The fifth time wasn't intentional
But my mother didn't believe in me,
The sixth time felt easier cause
Bleeding veins are better to see.
And the number of cuts went on and on
Whenever I needed an escape from this pain
They say I'm really sad and depress
Now life feels miserable than death
And today, I decided as I pick the blade up
This is the last,there won't be any more cuts
There'll be no inner battle or ruckus
It'll be quick and slow to drain my last hope.