the blade whispers promises
it cannot keep,
and i press,
but it never cuts deep enough
to quiet the storm.

each line carved on my skin
feels like an apology,
to myself,
to the world i’m hiding from,
to the guilt that follows
like a shadow i can’t escape.

i tell myself this is the last time.
that i’ll find another way,
but the ache is relentless,
and the silence inside me grows louder,
begging for release.

i want to stop.
i want to believe
there’s more to me than this,
but for now, i sit with the shame,
and the fragile hope
that one day,
i’ll learn how to heal.