alone on the floor again
with a razor as my only friend
tracing the outlines of the veins on my arm
like a child’s coloring book
trying to find a calm deep within
my body becomes a canvas
covered in blue, purple, red
a symphony of shades
like a rainbow for the depressed mind
but it is morbid, an inhumane sight
so I have to keep them hidden away
behind barriers of bracelets
and constricting long sleeves
even in the blistering heat
they will never understand how it feels
on the outside it’s destructive and ugly
a permanent reminder of the pain
but the chemical rush is a relief
that no amount of opioids could match
so it’s a good high to chase
and a harder habit to kick
dont ******* believe it’s beautiful
like a classical masterpiece or
a heart-wrenching ballad
because if you saw me behind that door
shivering, naked and lifeless
you would not call it a work of art
but a tragedy
it is an addiction like any other
in all of its ugly glory
and it will push people away
and make their stomachs turn
and you’ll be alone
on the floor
again
currently 9 months clean of self harm, but it will forever be a part of my body
