Look at this blade,

So smooth and sharp.

It has been made,

To leave a mark.

Pressed against my skin;

It feels so cool,

But when I dig in,

I feel like a fool.

Do it I must,

To fade pain away.

I do it just,

So I don’t feel grey.

I enjoy the feeling;

The sensation of a cut.

But inside I’m dealing,

With feelings that are shut.

So I cut with this blade,

So smooth and sharp.

For it has been made,

To leave a mark.