Poem (age 13)

Steel
As cold as ice in my hand
Lincoln park blasting
One of my favorite bands
The blade
Ready to slice
Ready to slit my wrist
Bet itd feel nice
No where to go
but down from here
Ive lost almost everything
I held so near
But i wont admit
that im depressed
The word is too powerful
lets just say stressed
You know that song "scars"?
i want to sing it to my mom real loud
i want to ask her
if shes proud
proud her oldest daughter hates her
proud she ruined my life
proud that shes to blame
proud im in my room with a knife
the cold steel
feels so good
between my fingertips
wondering if i would
would i dare
give up the fight
cut myself again
would that be alrite?
would it mean my mom won?
that she succeeded?
in hurted me so bad
that i actually bleeded?
Is that her plan?
to ruin me
like she did to herself?
but doesnt she see?
im not like her
different in every way
she says im a mini her
let her say what she wants to say
im better than her
and through all the pain
this single thought
is what keeps me sane
The knife
its calling my name
if i cut myself
would i be the same?
i cant do this
i cant let her win
give in to the devil
sin the greatest sin
but the blade
its calls got louder
laughing with my mom
making her prouder
im going to do it
hands shaking real bad
theyre still laughing
and its making me mad
i lower it to my wrist
its chanting my name
ready for the blood
ready for the pain
damn this knife
the pressures going to my brain
im totally losing it
im going insane
i cant let this happen
i cant let her win
this is too much
its making my head spin
i have to make it stop
but how?
i dont think i can
is it too late now?
i lift the blade up
fell its presence leave my arm
and it screams in anger
knowing it did no harm
im not gonna give in
not today
i put the knife down
and i walk away