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Feb 2016
I feel myself slipping back into what I once relied on, observing the pigment of crimson forming upon my wrist, slowly moving its way to my palm and to the cracks between my fingers. The exhilarating feeling it brings, the sense of comfort for that mere moment where you feel as if the life has come back to you and you are no longer a reflection in the mirror.. In that moment you're not a figment of imagination in someone else's cruel world. Yet it becomes an addiction few understand, it is not to gain the attention of another but in fact a proclamation of sheer freedom from fighting your inner demons for just another day.
Zade B
Written by
Zade B  Johannesburg
(Johannesburg)   
  510
     NuBlaccSoul, ---, ryn, Sisilia, Urmila and 2 others
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