How do I convince my hand not to
stab me?
Every night i slit my wrists
with the blades they gave me,
I tear my heart open to make it a misery
Death isn’t my muse
Yet it chases my words till i cant breathe
My scars burn with agony
as their words choke me with cruelty
O dear tell me how do I convince my
hand not to stab me?
      
                                            ~pranalee