The Pain Of Life

I sliced my wrist again.
Not to commit suicide, no.
I'm too much of a coward for that.
Red gashes spill blood, overlapping one another,
Like the back of an abused slave.
Won't let myself cry;
The pain is a breakthrough.
I'm not just made out of anger.
Gotta let them out somehow.
Funny how they got together hand-in-hand.
Scars on my wrist
Crisscross, nonstop.
Thought I was impervious to pain,
But now I'm an addict.
If pain was a drug,
Then I'm my own dealer.
Deliver it for free,
But maybe not because
I've sold my soul for it.
And things will never be the same.