How do I convince my hand not to
stab me?
Every night i slit my wrists
with the blades they gave me,
I tear my heart open to make it a misery
Death isn’t my muse
Yet it chases my words till i cant breathe
My scars burn with agony
as their words choke me with cruelty
O dear tell me how do I convince my
hand not to stab me?
~pranalee
Jul 10, 2025
Jul 10, 2025 at 2:01 PM UTC
May i die in my sleep,
for the words I’ve been told.
Their Blades are stained with my blood.
Harsher words don’t stab me anymore,
But the emptiness does
Before i cut my heart open
I wish they would **** me
While i sleep soundly
Jul 10, 2025
Jul 10, 2025 at 1:58 PM UTC