Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2016
Break open the top of that razor you bought for your legs to reveal the four little blades you will soon use as weapons against your wrist. Take one, two, three more sleeping pills than recommended. Take that lighter that once was used to light the candles in your room and place it on your skin leaving burns behind. Use those hands you hugged your mother with to punch black and blue marks onto your knees. Go to the store with the money you were supposed to spend on lunch that day and spend it on as many cigarettes as your lungs will allow and then some. Crack open that money jar and go buy the strongest alcohol you can afford and even if it stings drink it down to the last drop. Take your body away from helping fill the sandbags and throw it into the current. Take the space in your emergency suitcase full of clothes and pictures and force in letters from her in their place. It doesn't matter if you write words into your skin with that blade or if you love someone that doesn't love you, they're all the same. Self harm.
You're my blade and I can't put you down. How sick is it that I still need you? That I packed your shirt before mine knowing it wouldn't fit me, but it still smells like you so how could I let it drown along with my house in this flood?
Written by
Please log in to view and add comments on poems