Dealt

The way it feels,
desperate times
call for desperate measures,
the glint of satisfaction
piercing pleasures
pain that rhymes,
blood that seals.

It's the pain of the ruts
that stops the chasm,
I have to know
my body's reaction,
see my face in the window
sunken eyes, grimacing spasm,
if it's real then I ain't nuts.

The blade that sinks fast
sharp and deep,
it ain't right
for me, the pain must accompany action,
it's the fight,
to feel the sting and yet to keep
going 'til I own it at last.

Shallow, slow, 'til blood comes and no farther,
cut where they'll see so I can't leave scars,
know myself, and know my limit.
I ain't a "cutter", I don't belong to some faction,
Not looking for a prize, and I don't wanna win it,
Never told anyone, not cos they think it's a farce,
but cos I'd jump a building if they'd rather.

The way it felt,
desperate times
called for desperate measures,
that glint of satisfaction,
it gave me pleasures
that haunt my rhymes
though now I've dealt.