Looking down at my body
I wonder how it got this way
Cuts criss-cross my arms
Like some masochist at play.
I can see where blood has spilt
Causing so much pain
But the price of pleasure is blood
And pleasure is all there is to gain
A quick slash here, a few cuts there
As I go about my day
When others see, they lower their gazes
And have nothing much to say.
There is one slash across the wrist,
A dull red, and still fairly fresh.
Is it a suicide attempt gone wrong?
This mangling of the flesh
And as I sit here, lost in space
I see my skin's attacker.
No, it's not a knife or razor.
You fool, it's only Cracker!