4 months have gone by, I think that's how long it's been;

For 4 months I thought I was clean.

Today, my record is tainted, stained with my blood,

as I tremble and sob, tears creating a flood.

Will is shattered, my strength is gone,

Holding my blade again, look at the patterns I've drawn.

Over 4 months, the scars slowly healed,

but I've created new ones, a result of the pain I concealed.

When will this end, when will someone see?

I hate this world and I'm dying to be free.

I'm cutting again, the burning sensation feels nice,

it numbs the hurt like a bag of ice.

I laugh as my life source drains away,

knowing I've lost enough and won't need to go through another day;

A day of hate and resentment, knowing I'm not wanted,

The nights that got longer, the depression worse, I'm being haunted.

I look up to the sky to count the stars,

it's still less than my amount of scars.