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Christina Cox Dec 2015
I did it again.
I broke my will.
With a broken razor and fallen blades.
Tools to cut leg hair made into small knifes.
Cutting into skin again and again.
Until the blood stops to pool and starts to drip into a river.
Watch it flow, hold a tissue so as not to ruin the rug.
Stained tissue, bright red.
Next to pink skin surrounding puffed, red, marks.
Wipe it up and clean it up.
Make it so I don’t have to go to the Doctor.
Infection, such a needy *****.
All done, but don’t pull out bandaids.
The wrappers will yell the story to mom.
Mom will tell dad, and together they will offer support.
Support from family members who don’t understand.
Who are sad when I need ice to control my urges.
Why would I let them know that it didn’t work?
That in the pretend safety of the bathroom, I went from diving to cutting.
In just a few seconds.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
These medications make my emotions hazy.
An inversion in Salt Lake, Utah occurs in my mind.
The surrounding mountains of guilt and shame
create the perfect bowl for smog to stay.
Hiking up peaks to view the city lights
and instead I see halos of gold through fake fog.
Back down to a car that swerves through canyons
while going just slow enough to see the road’s edge.
Walking up and down the streets no one can tell
of the poison we all breathe in together.
Utah, a happy place, where strangers smile at each other
and try to force themselves to believe that they are not fake.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
On and Off
Up and Down
Front and Back
White and Black
Cold and Hot
Happy and Sad
Ice and Heat
Blade and Skin
Blood and Bandaid
Christina Cox Dec 2015
How much pain do I have to be in
for it to be real to you?
Will it be when I create the
harmless pain of freezing ice?
Or when I give myself a silver blade
to draw the blood out?
Maybe when I attempt
to **** myself?
Then will you understand the pain
when you visit my gravestone?
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Growing thorns protect
Cut from the nutritious ground
Hung until they break
Christina Cox Dec 2015
The thing about having my break from school
is that I don’t know when it will end.
Which ultimately means
I don’t know when my life will start again.
But remember, dear, that this break is life
just in a form that you don’t like.
So this break from school is a life in Hell
quite opposite of what the average person tells.
I want to be learning new subjects
to restart the life I loved so much.
  Dec 2015 Christina Cox
hkr
they asked me what i wanted the headline of my life to be
at a time when it took everything in me
to keep my name out of the obituaries.
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