You think it feels good
You think it feels nice
To pick up a razor
And give your arm a slice
The first time's o.k.
The second time's great
The third's even better
But the fourth can not wait
You think every thing's fine
So you start taking some chances
You start cutting new places
And begin receiving strange glances
"What could go wrong?"
"Nothing, who cares?"
But you keep getting weaker
And continue getting stares
You're feeling depressed
And you aren't sure why
You weren't when you started
But now you break down and cry
You know something's wrong
But you just can't stop
What started as a few
Has progressed into a lot
You've turned into an addict
You love seeing the blood
You like the feel of the razor
And watching your veins flood
Your friends start to yell
Your parents do not know
They'd send you to the psych ward
A place you don't want to go
You're going insane
And you aren't sure why
You keep getting thoughts
About wanting to die
You're getting very sick
You're getting very weak
You keep trying to hide it
This secret you must keep
You hate your life
You feel like you're dying
You need to stop this
But you can't stop crying
You need to get help
You need some rest
Go some place cheerful
Because your life is a mess
You take one last slice
And the final door closes
Thank your new found addiction
Of death in small doses


~Angie Bush