The Fight

She goes into the bathroom,
and locks the door behind.
She reaches for the razor,
as doubt crosses her mind.
She pulls up her shirt,
wonders why shes was the one hurt.
She takes a deep breathe in,
As she draws the blade down.
She makes another sin,
She stares at the bloody razor,
And Throws it in the bin,
"I vow this to be, the last time i cut"
Shes now trying to win.
Win the war against the fighting,
All the burning,
All the lighting.
That makes her gut keep churning.
Yes, she maybe harmful,
But within that she is safe.
She carries out the armful,
Of used razor blades and knives.
She trying to win the fight.
The fight our lives.