the urges too strong
the stress too big
the nightmares too long
is it getting bad again
take apart a razor
pull out the blades with pliers
I need it to all stop hurting
by hurting me
paint my skin with red
ive always loved the color
skin twitching as I cut
pause, then white, then red
I will always bleed
at least it's one thing I can rely on
nobody is ever there for me
except my blade
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Author:
NinjaGirl (
Offline) - Published: May 13th, 2024 11:10
- Comment from author about the poem: I suppose my journey looks like three months forward, then everything backwards.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 9
Offline)
Comments1
Fire in the water’s retention
A high ideal’s transmutation
Courage’s elevation
Faith’s generation
Awakened imagination
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