Save me

Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets
This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals
And I am not afraid to die
I'm not afraid to bleed
I want the pain of payment
What's left, but a section of cuts
Much like a slew of a thousand unwanted voices
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid
To fill and spill over and under my thoughts
My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter
I'm cutting trying to picture your black, broken heart
Love is not like anything
Especially a knife