my skin
has housed sunburns
and scraped kneecaps.
it has carried
hair and goosebumps
and so many freckles
that I could never count.

my skin
has endured bruises
and cigarette burns.
its suffering is
the aftermath of
abuse, impulsivity,
and my own self-hatred.

my skin
has braved hot weather
and icy water.
it has protected me
from prickly thorns,
from strong winds,
and from myself.

despite the cruelty
that I inflicted
onto it,
this skin
held me together
even when I
felt like I was
falling apart.

Cuts, cuts everywhere
All over my hands, my wrists, my arms.
Bleeding, bleeding.

Thick dark drops of blood.
Blurring my vision, clouding my mind.
Oozing, oozing.

The cuts dig deeper
Into my soul, my shattered soul,
Bleeding, oozing.

Just one more cut to end it all
A deep cut, digging into my throat, to end it all
And my throat shall bleed with my last drops of blood.

No more cuts
No more cuts
No more oozing and bleeding
No more dark red smudges in my mind
Just black
and black
and black.

Pain. Suffering isn't it?
First, it will hurt you.
It's like tearing you slowly into pieces.
You would feel the emptiness running through
your veins until you slowly get used to it.
Your body has been warped
with drugs,
It's a battle with yourself
and there's no other way but to
find comfort in every slit you make.
Then you'd be drowning in slumber;
exhausted
weary,
numb,
hands dangling off at the edge of the bed
to let the monsters
know you are willing,
and there,
you'll find yourself in great relief.
You find your cuts
bleeding under your sleeves
and it makes you
fall
in love
with it.

You suffered
so much, yet
you are willing.

I am sad
And when that happens
I think I need pain
The kind that can scar
The scars you can see
They may bleed
But that's how I stop being sad

You don't have to love me anymore
But I'll always love you
You'll always have someone there
A wide open pair of sliced-up arms

I used to dream of you laying on my chest
Now all that lays there is razor marks
I almost don't mind if they scar;
They can represent my pain like a crest

I'll never be able to hear of your country
Not even see the southern cross
Without remembering your eyes
I'm so broken, I can't find it in me to cut ties

And so as you move on with life
I hope you know I still wish you the best
And I know you don't believe me, but I'll be here
Dragging the next blade across my chest

I know you'll be happy
And one day, I pray I can be too
But until then
Australia still makes me think of you

What a beautiful surprising life
Is so precious but it cuts you like a knife
A painful sunset shakes thoughts awake
Every evening from the fantasies we make
A bright new sunrise in the early haze
Midafternoon hot like a blaze
Commanding time
Providing light
She rules day
He rules night
The moon cloaked in shades of black
The sun robed in white and blue
Perfect balance to steady the universe
Allowing meaning to all we do
King and Queen of humble Earth
Governing vast sky
Without reciprocation
No complaining
No asking why
How come I am so ungrateful?
Why can't I realize I am blessed?
I should be thanking trees for the oxygen supplied
Instead cursing the air inflating my chest
I need to open my eyes all the way
Look a little harder around
Because on days with no sunshine to be found
Just under clouds that star is still there
Reliably shining away from man's stare
It is true that every second in this world is a gift
Remember next time you feel low and seek a lift
Cherish miracles hidden
Great and small
Gaze towards the heavens when bowed by a fall
Even if you can't see its glow or feel its gentle burn
The sun is there in our stormiest hours
Eventually it's presence will return

whenever their words are sandpaper
that aggressively rubs her heart
and forms stinging cuts,
her hands always reach for
her soft, fluffy, warm blanket.
as it envelops her in its warmth,
her heart heals the cuts
and becomes soft again.

I'm back into this beautifully torturous environment  

That I so un-proudly call “home”

Chained, restricted, duct tape shut

I’ve felt it all before

#childhood

The scars, the bruises, and the cuts

They were starting to heal, slowly but surely

But I’m starting to feel the cuts reopen

The bruises coming once again

And the scars shining brighter than before, taunting me with the reminder

That there is truly no place like home