Whack

It happens every time at midnight.
My body turns cold, my mind starts to blight.
I loose control and can't grasp a feeling
while blood squirts all over toward the ceiling.
My parents promise me it will get better
but they don't know about the scars under the sweater.
They think I'm fine with no problems at all
but it's my head that I beat against the wall.
I'll run away and never come back
because where I live turns my mind to whack.