Poem: Allowed

Its my body so why do you cry?
You took the blade,
all I ask is why?
Its my body,
just let go my hand
and leave me here to land.

You don't know the pain,
when I walk in the rain.
Its all the same
but you feel the blame.
Its me,
I feel the strain.

Stop sitting and staring
can't you see I'm preparing.
I'm raring to cut,
now I'm more in a rut.
I crave the blood,
need the red
to feel the pounding of my head.
Put me to bed,
I don't want you to find me dead.

Walk out before its to late
I don't want you to feel this hate
its my body any rate.
I do as I will
but thanks your grate.

I'm allowed to hurt,
its my blade.
Give me my knife.
Come on if you don't I'll go on a raid
to the kitchen ,
I'll find another blade.

There's no denying
its probably me you can crying
for I am dying.
I've had enough lying.
Its the consequences of the blade.