Excerpt From a Poem I Will Never Write

I used to look at cutters when it got bad and tell myself I`ll never go there... Now I look at my wrists and it`s just sad, I ask myself how I got here... Hurting myself on the outside trying to kill the thing on the inside... Feels like I`m drowning while everyone else is just breathing fine... My thoughts have destroyed me more than any blade ever could... How do I explain what`s wrong, when nothing is right? When my whole heart is a beating wound...