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Nov 2018
"why do you do it?"
they ask.

why do i do it?

every time i feel alone,
when i feel enraged,

is the reason i do it.

the stings my body resonates with as i separate my skin by a blade,
is nothing compared to the pain that resides within me.

why do i do it?

i can't give you a direct answer.

i do it because, when i am upset, it's the equivalent of taking a calming drag from a much needed cigarette.
i do it because, when i am angry, i seek only myself to take that anger out on.
i do it because, when i am empty, i crave nothing more than to feel the harsh tingles left behind by the harsh metal.

why the **** do i do it?

because i ******* detest myself, that's ******* why.
because every time i force myself to gaze into my own dead orbs in the mirror, all i see reflected is pools of loathing and suffering.
because at night when the subtle ache that's been clinging to my chest suddenly clenches me until i can no longer breathe, i realise that the only one to blame is myself.
because i ******* hate myself.

"why do you do it?"

"...i don't know. "

is the reason i do it.
Written by
oizys  16/if i only knew
(16/if i only knew)   
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