Snapped

This is something I wrote quite a while ago and uploaded onto another site. I was looking through it and thought I'd give it a shot here =)

Snapped

Last night I snapped
It wasn't something I planned
Nor a road I mapped
But the tension just go to me,
And I snapped.

The razors had gone unused for so long,
I vaguely remember the last time...
When tears blurred the lines between right and wrong.
Scratches marred my wrist
And I couldn't stop.

Why do I have to be like this?
They told me I'd get better,
That the thoughts would soon fade away...
But nights passed,
And day after day,
They're still here,
Haunting me because they know my number one fear:
My fear of being alone.

When the last cut clots,
I don't feel any better.
Or do I?