Spoiler! :
The silver blade slides slowly along my skin;
I feel the sting down to my bone.
My flesh divides, making room for
this new being. Red cells seep out slowly
onto my skin. I glance over the fading white
scars beneath the fresh red marks, and wonder
now how this even started.
Something that once disgusted me so has
become my only retreat. I don’t know any
other way to make the pain disappear, even
for a short while. How have I come this far?
To drop even to this level? Creating physical
pain so I don’t have to deal with the emotional?
Seeing my skin tear under the knife’s cool steel:
it’s the only thing that calms me now. Lines of
red are drawn across my skin and I’m too far
gone to even think of coming back now. I can’t
help myself, can’t find anyone to help me. I scare
myself, but I can’t stop. What is wrong with me?
I don’t know why I do this to myself. I’m trapped
if I do and trapped if I don’t.
I’m held prisoner by pain; it draws me under,
as I drown in the depths of it. And I can’t stop,
need more, want more. Now the knife is my drug,
and I don’t care where I am. Find myself wanting
more all the time, as I lose myself to this sick
addiction. And the people near me, they ask me
why. Why?
You have taught me not to feel,
not to express what I need to say. My emotions
tangle up inside me until I have to cut them
out. And the relief it brings me is something
I know you’ll never understand.
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