I am having a love affair with sharp objects.
I look in the mirror and all I see is
the blood, the scars.
Makes me sick, makes me hate myself.
And yet, I can't stop.
I shake with the need to tear myself apart
and watch as the pain inside me
trickles out in the form of blood
and all that's left is the physical.
The pain reminds me what is real
as I struggle to win the war with my mind.
I have been held hostage for so long
I seem to have forgotten how to live
so I have been driven to this.
The pain lets me out like a
breath held too long.
I am not numb, not sad
and when I am
I am not so for long.