It...

It trickles down in crimson regret
Down its thigh and arm
Just one more bead of red
It's taking away the things that cause harm.

A silver blade glides over the canvas,
Cutting it,
Tearing it,
Causing it to bleed with every deep slit.

Just one more it shrieks
One more to free what it hides,
One more to unlock the shackles
The shackles of its mind.

More beads of crimson trickle into the pool
The pool of its insecurities and deepest fears
Its secrets and regrets,
It will be mixed with pain and despair held in the tears.  

It's been held in for so long
It thought it'd drown before it dug within
Especially when you've torn it apart
From the inside onto the skin

Nothing can hurt it anymore
It's too numb inside
Feelings are unknown to it
But a front works to hide what's in its mind.

Its emotions bled out with everything else,
Into the crimson pool
Of its secrets and emotions
And insecurities no longer can be used as a tool.

It's going to be the cause of its destruction,
Especially when it's self inflicting,
Every drop is painless
It's drugging is almost done finishing.

A few more slits onto the canvas,
It writes one word only
Numb
And it's done quickly.