In the mirror, a twisted face, A soul tormented, devoid of grace. The razor's kiss, the blood's embrace, A silent scream in this wretched place. Self-inflicted wounds, the scars of despair, In the void of torment, lost and unaware. In shadows deep, the demons swarm, The horrors of self-harm, a darkened storm. Crimson rivers, on pale flesh, each cut a mark, a soul's distress. A living nightmare, a personal hell. Silent cries in the dead of night, Haunted whispers, Chains of anguish. Darkness calls, a siren's song, A plea for release, from pain prolonged. In the blackened depths, where hope is gone, the horror lingers, and the scars live on. In the aftermath, a hollow shell, A life consumed by a private hell. In the echoes of pain, the horror