Hello there, old friend.
I hear you whispering again.
You drag your nails across my arm
and promise me you mean no harm.
You promise my aching heart relief
but I remember you, I remember the grief.
You would hand me the blade.
and smile darkly as each cut was made.
You provoke me with twisted realities
and discount my mere mortality.
I feel you fight for control over me,
to flay my flesh and make me bleed.
"I only want the best for you."
"Let go, release, it's the thing to do."
But you will ravage my soul no more.
My body shall speak of life, not war.
I know our battle is far from done
but for tonight, I suggest you run.