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Christina Cox Dec 2015
**** this brain that controls my actions.
Send my soul to hell,
it may as well live there.
**** the body I loathe so much.
This ****** mixture of mind, body, and soul…
It’s such an *******.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I pierced my ear today.
        Emphasis on the I.
I bought supplies,
     took the needle,
     and pierced my skin.
Then cartilage and skin again.
Put the earring in and locked it up.
Cleaned up blood with watered down
          chemicals.
I pierced my ear today
                         to get a safer rush of pain.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Naked trees and close to green bushes are no longer seen.
Five, six, seven inches of snow piled on branches.
Creating sad plants, drooping down.
Height is cut in half.
Now transfer that image to the soul.
You see my depression.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
There are people who call me brave.
For dressing different, being honest, and letting my hair talk.
Bravery.
Ha!
Truth is loneliness, sadness, and terrifying thoughts.
I distract you with how I look, how I act
so you don’t ask questions.
My appearance really whispers, “stay away.”
And you do.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Waiting in the darkened forest,
laying on the leaves and needles
just watching for my prey.
Talons of blood and fangs of sweat,
the nightmare shows it’s ugly form.
Shoot it down
one, two, three shots
until the glistening blood turns into a river
and I can soundly go to bed.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Tomorrow,
I will look into the mirror and pull up my sleeves.
Just a little past the wrist.
I will see my scars and I will acknowledge their existence.
Even though it is painful.

This week,
I will look into the mirror and pull up my sleeves.
Almost to the elbow.
I will see my scars and I will acknowledge the pain.
Even though I hate them.

In a fortnight,
I will look into the mirror and pull up my shirt and shorts.
Body parts that are hidden, even to me.
I will see the ghastly scars and I will acknowledge them.
Even though I cannot accept myself.

This month,
I will look into the mirror and pull up my sleeves.
To the point of my shoulder.
I will see my scars and I will accept them.
Even though it’s triggering.

Next month,
I will look into the mirror and take off my clothes.
Standing naked with myself as a witness.
I will see all my scars and I will acknowledge them.
I will see all of my body and I will acknowledge it.
Even though it will make me relapse.

This year,
I will look into the mirror and unwrap a towel.
Dripping water from my hair.
I will see all the scars and I will accept them.
I will see all of my body and I will accept it.
Even though I would have started over.

This lifetime,
I will be with another person and be intimate.
They will see and witness the pain.
And they will accept me.
And they will love me.
*Even though I can’t see the future.
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