It's such a scary thing,
though it is a choice.
When the blade's in your hand,
the world is full of noise.

Stopping is too late,
the scars are freshly grown.
I wanted just one ear,
so my cuts could be sown.

The aftermath is worse,
when you make it out alive.
Instead, they are mad,
no relation to my dive.

The ocean's too deep,
and holds a nasty grit.
I would know for sure,
I'm the one who made it.

I can't explain myself,
opinions they yelp.
What would you know?
You've never cried for help!

I have more thoughts,
onto me they clasp.
To be at peace for once,
is that too much to ask?

With nothing on the world,
my mind is so dark.
One step out of line,
my demons make their mark.

Again I say it's scary,
though it is a choice.
When your mind's taken over,
you no longer have a voice.

© moon rayven