Pain can't save you, so you slit your wrists and let you bleed.
It gives you the distraction of pain you need.
I cut for my distraction from the agony,
and each and every time the scars heal,
but the agony remains.
My wrists ready, my blades sharp, people judge but i'm on a steady route to my destruction.
My pain is temporary, my life lost,
It's an unavoidable end, slow and agonizing.
But I wait, for the scars to heal, for new ones to grow,
and distraction diminish,
until the reasons are lost and only the agony remains,