you were broken inside:
which was why you decided to play doctor that night.
you wanted to fix yourself.
with a bottle of pills as anaesthesia in one hand,
and a razor blade in another
that night was spent in a strange kind of ecstasy
when blade touches skin and blood trickles
you dissected your own heart,
wanting to understand
how something barely the size of your fist,
could keep you,
devoid of anything, alive
you didn't manage to find the answer that night
and fell asleep, failing to sew yourself back together
and each night you were plagued
by the viruses of pain and self hatred
and you were plunged into turmoil as
your immunity to the apathy of this world decrease
and on some nights,
you turn to that same bottle of pills or even a razor
when it hurts to even breathe because
your heart feels so heavy it's about to fall out of your chest
and on these nights,
you are driven to that rusty razor,
addicted to the strange ecstasy that comes from
blades touching skin, drawing red paint from your canvas of wrists
and on these nights,
you decide for yourself that
nothing could possibly be worth the pain
and your heart will remain forever
as a black rotting piece of flesh

see, even though on that night
all you wanted was to try and fix yourself
you ended up breaking yourself beyond repair