depression became a medium to the whispers of premeditated suicides - they whispered - "take your life, engrave your skin and create a tombstone out of your body. Your grave will be honored with fresh flowers.."
"Well don't you know that this is death's romantic gesture?"
But I never befriended razor-blades, though I'm acquainted to feel how it feels to have my thoughts bleed -
And like an artwork I scarred down my incisions - and amputated these whispers like Van Gorgh's ear.