My wrists are my real friends
My head is my real enemy
Well, I don't mind it much anyway
I write poetry, cut myself, then delete the poem
I'm an open book,
But some pages still stick together
Nobody will know me for good, for good
Now I have another secret to keep
Rather than that big one, its splintered
I met this guy recently,
I think he likes me in that way
He glares at my arms,
Asks me, "Why do you do that?
I just thought you were better than that."
I **** up my own body
For what ******* reason
I think that one year from now,
I'll have more than ever
Since every time I try and quit
I always have an urge
I've never learned how to deal with them
Every therapist I've been to doesn't understand
I will be this way until I'm broken in ways
I will never recover from.
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 5:17 PM UTC
My wrists are my real friends
My head is my real enemy
Well, I don't mind it much anyway
I write poetry, cut myself, then delete the poem
I'm an open book,
But some pages still stick together
Nobody will know me for good, for good
Now I have another secret to keep
Rather than that big one, its splintered
I met this guy recently,
I think he likes me in that way
He glares at my arms,
Asks me, "Why do you do that?
I just thought you were better than that."
I **** up my own body
For what ******* reason
I think that one year from now,
I'll have more than ever
Since every time I try and quit
I always have an urge
I've never learned how to deal with them
Every therapist I've been to doesn't understand
I will be this way until I'm broken in ways
I will never recover from.
