Suicide

When I say “I want to cut”  They say “get over it” I let them treat me like a mutt Even if the words hit  I remember in fifth grade  This girl I knew was a cutter  The scars where self made  Her body slit like butter  When she first told me  And asked if I did the same  I said no and let it be  I thought she was insane  But now I realized what it was  For me it's an addiction and I can't let go  She is still alive but uses drugs instead of knives  I can't let go even if I wanted so I better not get my hopes to high  For suicide is the easy way out  Because next time I might fly  And I have no doubt