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CheckHerSleevesPoems
A place just for me, you see. I can hid there and never be seen. In this place I typically don't cry. I am the real me, no need to cut me ear to ear just to see a smile here. You see dear, if I ever were to tell you what I imagine here you'd have me sent away. Would you like a little insight? Shhh, don't tell of these words. I think of taking the blade that sits there in the corner and slicing my wrists. Letting the blood drip. I find it fascinating to hold my hand up, like I could just grab a star. But then the reality is, I am only holding my arm up to let the blood run down it.   I let it pour out. Its no longer a drop or two, I've grown out of that faze. I like thinking of the acetaminophen sitting just 4 inches away. I reach for it, it rubs against my finger tips I can't grasp it, palms too sweaty and hands too shaky. I finally get it into my reach. I reach in with my ****** index and pointer fingers, I get out just two pills. It is just a start I tell myself, just enough for a deep sleep. But then I remember I never want to be woken up. I swallow the two pills and pick up the blade again. I carve "victim" into my thigh, that's what I was my whole life. I get some blood on my fingers, I am aware I have only a few minutes before I become dizzy. I start writing my suicide note to my family. I am writing it my blood. Maybe I could have left something more beautiful, imagine not being able to find your daughter but when you did she was in a puddle of blood with ****** writing surrounding where she lays, limp and cold. I reach for the bottle of acetaminophen. I need more, lots more, to reach my desired amount of sleep. I pour the bottle on my hands, one pill falls, then two, then three. I eventually lost count. I careful place each and every pill on my tongue. I let each one represent everything bad I have been called, and everything bad i've been forced into. I step closer to my deep sleep. I feel the ***** coming up my throat, Like the demons crawling up  my insides. I ***** up water, I haven't eaten in days. I ***** and then curl up into a ball, I am surrounded by my own blood. I'm slipping away, I can feel it. Good night, I whisper. H.T
0
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
a place just for me
A place just for me, you see. I can hid there and never be seen. In this place I typically don't cry. I am the real me, no need to cut me ear to ear just to see a smile here. You see dear, if I ever were to tell you what I imagine here you'd have me sent away. Would you like a little insight? Shhh, don't tell of these words. I think of taking the blade that sits there in the corner and slicing my wrists. Letting the blood drip. I find it fascinating to hold my hand up, like I could just grab a star. But then the reality is, I am only holding my arm up to let the blood run down it.   I let it pour out. Its no longer a drop or two, I've grown out of that faze. I like thinking of the acetaminophen sitting just 4 inches away. I reach for it, it rubs against my finger tips I can't grasp it, palms too sweaty and hands too shaky. I finally get it into my reach. I reach in with my ****** index and pointer fingers, I get out just two pills. It is just a start I tell myself, just enough for a deep sleep. But then I remember I never want to be woken up. I swallow the two pills and pick up the blade again. I carve "victim" into my thigh, that's what I was my whole life. I get some blood on my fingers, I am aware I have only a few minutes before I become dizzy. I start writing my suicide note to my family. I am writing it my blood. Maybe I could have left something more beautiful, imagine not being able to find your daughter but when you did she was in a puddle of blood with ****** writing surrounding where she lays, limp and cold. I reach for the bottle of acetaminophen. I need more, lots more, to reach my desired amount of sleep. I pour the bottle on my hands, one pill falls, then two, then three. I eventually lost count. I careful place each and every pill on my tongue. I let each one represent everything bad I have been called, and everything bad i've been forced into. I step closer to my deep sleep. I feel the ***** coming up my throat, Like the demons crawling up  my insides. I ***** up water, I haven't eaten in days. I ***** and then curl up into a ball, I am surrounded by my own blood. I'm slipping away, I can feel it. Good night, I whisper. H.T
CheckHerSleeves
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CheckHerSleeves
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
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