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christine-11Poems
He glanced over at the counter, Knowing exactly what was there, This is the only way, It made sense. “No...” The thought circled-- the voice; "yes, do it baby, nothing is as sweet, everything will be better." Euphoria. A deep breath and another and another fury engulfed his being knuckles hit wall again again again blood flushed through the newly opened skin **** Shaking The urge was strong Disabling He was weak No match for this devil. On his feet, he walked to the counter Reached behind the plywood His prized casing. Simple, silver. Cold. Freedom. His hand throbbed His mind paid no attention I have you now You are worthless. You are mine. What am I waiting for.. Trembling hands Another breath. Concentrate. These were his best friends They knew him better than he knew himself The blades. Exhale. Careful. He lifted one out Thin Long Sharp Perfect Freedom Twirling it in his fingers Smiling ear to ear DO IT He positioned the blade Held it steady Pushed Let it sink into his skin He threw his head back A small yelp of pain No. This is what you wanted, remember It will make everything okay again The tip disappeared The blood gushed Steady He dragged it Slowly Enjoying every second destroying himself bit by bit Freedom Almost halfway Good. It’s deep He dragged. Index finger balanced on the side His thumb grazing his skin The blade disappeared Given time It would become him right across. his eyes shut. The were no tears He sat in silence Feeling the blood swim Instantly. Dripping down his arm Onto the floor AGAIN the taunt continued There wasn’t anything left in him You aren’t worth my time. Use some of that fat energy, and finish the job What will they think? Nobody will miss you Nobody cares They’ll be glad to see you’re gone. The blood didn’t stop It wouldn’t This would be the last time. He picked up the blade. Again. It sunk into his flesh like butter This is for the best I just can’t Push Drag This wasn’t about self control This was the end. Freedom. A wimper "Are you happy?" "Are you?" A constant battle Dizziness. He stood up. Turned the taps on to hot. Starred into his own eyes. The ones he hated so much The very reason he couldn’t go on His legs gave out It seemed like a dream Crashing. He hit the floor. It was over. Freedom.
0
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Freedom
He glanced over at the counter, Knowing exactly what was there, This is the only way, It made sense. “No...” The thought circled-- the voice; "yes, do it baby, nothing is as sweet, everything will be better." Euphoria. A deep breath and another and another fury engulfed his being knuckles hit wall again again again blood flushed through the newly opened skin **** Shaking The urge was strong Disabling He was weak No match for this devil. On his feet, he walked to the counter Reached behind the plywood His prized casing. Simple, silver. Cold. Freedom. His hand throbbed His mind paid no attention I have you now You are worthless. You are mine. What am I waiting for.. Trembling hands Another breath. Concentrate. These were his best friends They knew him better than he knew himself The blades. Exhale. Careful. He lifted one out Thin Long Sharp Perfect Freedom Twirling it in his fingers Smiling ear to ear DO IT He positioned the blade Held it steady Pushed Let it sink into his skin He threw his head back A small yelp of pain No. This is what you wanted, remember It will make everything okay again The tip disappeared The blood gushed Steady He dragged it Slowly Enjoying every second destroying himself bit by bit Freedom Almost halfway Good. It’s deep He dragged. Index finger balanced on the side His thumb grazing his skin The blade disappeared Given time It would become him right across. his eyes shut. The were no tears He sat in silence Feeling the blood swim Instantly. Dripping down his arm Onto the floor AGAIN the taunt continued There wasn’t anything left in him You aren’t worth my time. Use some of that fat energy, and finish the job What will they think? Nobody will miss you Nobody cares They’ll be glad to see you’re gone. The blood didn’t stop It wouldn’t This would be the last time. He picked up the blade. Again. It sunk into his flesh like butter This is for the best I just can’t Push Drag This wasn’t about self control This was the end. Freedom. A wimper "Are you happy?" "Are you?" A constant battle Dizziness. He stood up. Turned the taps on to hot. Starred into his own eyes. The ones he hated so much The very reason he couldn’t go on His legs gave out It seemed like a dream Crashing. He hit the floor. It was over. Freedom.
trigger warning; suicidal ideation suicidal actions self harm
christine-11
Written by
christine-11
Canadian
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
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