tw self harm




I hear its sweet voice in my head
Making promises
Offering deals....
A little cut to calm the nerves?
That.. that sounds reasonable...
Its voice grows louder and louder
Tempting, coaxing

I don’t want it!
I’m not doing that anymore!
I won’t do it!
I try to protest

But there’s an ache in my heart
A restless, painful void
And while I know it’s not a solution
I do know it’ll release some pressure....
Make it a little easier...
maybe? maybe I’ll try... just a bit...

Gazing at the stars
I look at my fading  scars
The unseen hurt  , The  unheard  cry
I wish the pain inside  would die

I go through this once more
Will there ever be a door
Which would take me far away
To an unknown gateway

But the blade is my friend
When I reach dead ends
He hears me scream ....hears me moan
A smirk on his lips appear as I groan

My face has turned pale ...my fingers blue
He says my untimely death is now due
I look around , but darkness is all i see
In this cold hour a  warm hand is all I need

crimson beads
on a pale wrist
blade digging
white-knuckled fist
tears flood
from sparkling eyes
wishing for
a quick demise
a painful love
piercing heart-flesh
lips like velvet
on cuts still fresh
a dream of a lover
of someone so sweet
a lovely human
to make me complete

The canvas comes with roses,
beautiful, bright,
crimson roses,
shining in
moonlight.
An artist with a sharp brush,
a canvas pale as snow.
They drew
and drew
and drew.
Stroke after stroke
roses grew.
A once empty canvas
now full of
roses with white stems.
Tens turn into hundreds
as roses quickly grew.
Painting done,
the artist looks at their work,
Roses wilting
as fast as they came.
The artist cleaned up their canvas
to be ready for another day.

With time our wounds heal
But our scars remain the same
They're reminders of how we feel
When we take on all the blame

The slash marks,
in my wrist,
Shine so red
under the lights.
But they feel,
so inadequate.

The thin stretch,
of pale skin,
Over my sprawling veins,
T'would appear that,
I have to go just a bit deeper,
And then I get to disappear.

Oh to disappear,
Be without worry,
or illness,
No more sickness,
and no more health.

Turning out the lights,
would be so simple,
But to complicate,
would save my life.

And so I will get through,
To find the way out,
of my prison.
Thinking makes not a human,
The only true way, is doubt.