eight butterflies instead of lines
instead of those painful repeating designs
eight butterflies, just drawings in any other person’s eyes
but to me they’re special
so i keep them alive
i’m starting to hate that red ink anyway

The butterfly project is quite a gift. I would recommend researching it for yourself.
Pualena 1d

You cut yourself and you don’t even feel how it hurts anymore.
You cut yourself and you don’t have control over your life
You cut yourself and you don’t have anyone who cares.
You cut yourself and you don’t need anyone's help.
You cut yourself and you don’t ever bleed.
You cut yourself and you don’t…
You cut yourself and you…
You cut yourself and…
You cut yourself…
You cut…
That’s right, it’s about you.
It’s always about you.
When will it stop being about you?
You’re so selfish.
No one loves you.
How could they?
You can’t even love yourself.
What’s there to love?
You’re such a shit person and you know it.
Screams bounce off the walls. Spit flying from your mouth as you cry out the frustrations.
Only you can hear you and people only pretend to understand what you’re saying, but they’re just as deaf as you are blind.
You’re all alone; and you like it.
It’s your very own personal insane asylum, and everyone is looking at you safely shielding themselves behind glass walls.
You hate it but you need it. You want to escape but not enough to break down the mental barriers you’ve put up.
You are your own enemy and you're kicking your ass.
You’re a burden not worth saving.
Just stay in your room. Stay in your pile of insanity.
Keep everyone safe from yourself.
And one day, hopefully, the void will swallow you whole and it’ll be like you were never here.
You cut yourself because you’re afraid and shaking.
You cut yourself because you don’t want to be weak.
You cut yourself because you don’t feel like enough.
You cut yourself because you feel like a scared child.
You cut yourself and you’re searching for a reason why.
You cut yourself and none of the answers make sense to you.
You cut yourself. And it's always about you.

Callie Labridge Mar 2017

You're dying inside,
'Cause it's inside your mind,
You say that you're fine,
But you're not 'cause you're dying.

A smile on your face,
As your demons they chase,
What's left of your mind,
But now they can't find,
Any more of your mind,
'Cause it's lost,
So you cry.

You cry 'cause you're dying,
And you're dying while you're crying,
And it's not worth the time,
You think to yourself,
It's not worth the time,
You put in your life,
So inside your mind,
You decide that you'll die,
And you pick up the knife
Then you end your life.

Im Sorry

I wanna see the blood
I wanna see the pain
I wanna prove that my body
Is nothing more than a frame
My mind is screaming
Parts of it beg me to bleed
The others demonize those pleas
I just don't want to feel this way anymore
And I suppose it's my own fault
I know how I get
When I start drinking then stop
Maybe that's why I always overdo it
Because then I can get sick and sleep
Before this depression takes its hold
And sets my demons free
Digging and clawing at my mind
Until I do the same to my own skin

Alone at night,
Door is shut,
Giving myself,
These bloody cuts,
I wake up,
Blinds are shut,
Turn on the light,
Red dry cuts,
Cover them up,
Mask my pain,
Even though,
Tears fall like rain,
At nightfall,
I still have scars,
New cuts cover,
Where old ones are.

Jey Blu Jan 4

Depression is smeared makeup mixed with tears
Depression is giving up on makeup and your appearance altogether
Depression is hiding behind a painted on smile that masks how you truly feel
Depression is losing the ability to love yourself, and then losing yourself
Depression is what takes over your heart, life and mind
Depression is being alone at 4 am and the only friend you have is the sharp silver thing hidden away from prying eyes
Depression is the satisfaction as the water becomes slowly tinted with crimson
Depression is the the darkness of your heart and the ruby red life leaking out of your wrist swirling together
Depression is wondering why your life has to be covered with the cloud of blackness
Depression is trying to hold on to that last bit of hope when you know, deep down, that there is none left
Depression is hiding in the bathroom and crying for no reason
Depression is feeling helpless when they take your blades and you resort to any form of pain you can get
Depression is needing that tangible feeling, because this shit isn't gonna just stay in your mind
Depression is feeling like everything is against you
Depression is feeling like nothing
Depression is feeling nothing

Finally can write again I've had no inspiration for a while

Give them a choo-choo, a weapon
You can breathe disease with a word
A contagion
         A mindset          
                   A plague                  
Go to bed, you'll catch the writhing worms
You'll see them slithering
Beneath your skin, if you stare
If you watch long enough
You've got parasites inside you, obviously
Look at you playing surgeon
Your arms are full of mistakes.

Jack Dec 2017

She loved him,
They were young and stupid,
She was sad, he was happy,
Their relationship moved too quickly,
Although young they indulged in intimate love.

She loved him,
They were young and stupid
She was sad, he was happy,
He was busy being a child, this upset her,
She hurt herself and blamed it on him.

She thought she loved him,
But they were young and stupid,
He was tired and hurting,
He asked to confide in a childhood, female, friend.

It was not taken well.

She loved him,
But she was too young to understand,
There was no reply for 37 minutes,
She facetimed him in tears,
She reversed the camera to show what she had done,

Crimson blood ran down her arms,
It dripped down, corrupting the beige carpet,
Tears fell alongside the dark drops,
Her mum entered. The call ended.

She loved him,
2 hrs later he thought he’d killed her,
He broke up his shitty, prepubescent razor,
Without a second thought he dug it into his leg.

Crimson blood ran down his leg,
It dripped down, corrupting the beige carpet,
Tears fell alongside the dark drops,
But no one entered, no one to help him.

She loved him,
She got stitched up and it became like it never happened.
He loved her,
He was left scarred and that image of her wrists never left him.

4 years later he sat in his room,
He wrote a piece of text.
This Isn’t a Poem. Its My Life.

This isn't a poem. I know that but im drunk and depressingly happy, this is my story. i hope it helps you <3
Its long but worth the read if you need someone to relate to. Never forget, you are loved.
L M Biese Dec 2017

I hide behind these lines.
In my head.
On my arm.
Around my throat.

My life is full of lines.
Learning them.
Cutting them.
Writing them.
Hearing them.
Living them.
Breathing them.
Wanting them.
Needing them.

Cutting isn’t going to kill me.
One painkiller won’t either.
If one can’t kill me, two surely can’t either.
Two isn’t working anymore,
Better take another, and another, and another, and another. (another 4, get it?)
Soon the bottles are empty,
Just like me.

I don’t have enough will to kill myself.
And I hate that I reached out.
And I hate that my friends care.
And I hate that I’m on medication.
I hate myself.
Because I hate myself.

And I hate myself for typing my thoughts,
For someone, maybe to see.
I want to date someone, but don’t want someone to care about me before I go.

Look at all the lines I’ve already done.
They still aren’t enough.
I know I need to get better,
But fuck it.

I’m finally happy. (I̶f̶ ̶h̶a̶p̶p̶y̶ ̶m̶e̶a̶n̶s̶ ̶I̶ ̶h̶a̶t̶e̶ ̶m̶y̶s̶e̶l̶f̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶i̶s̶)

Opal Dec 2017

More than scars
They're names and faces
People in places
That won't seem to leave
Physically absent
Forever in me
I feel your fingertips
Memorizing my body
In the palms of my hand
Making me sweat
On the back of my neck
My hair stands up
Whispering in my ear
But ignoring my calls
Answering my thoughts
But not responding to my pleas
I'm all alone but you still won't leave
I drag sharp things
Across my body
Attempting to set you free
Blood rushes out
Suddenly I can breath
Cleansing my body
A bath for my heart
You always come back
Just to leave me in the dark

Every time there's a new guy in my life he becomes the voice inside my head and stays there long after he stops talking to me.
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