Addictions are like *******
Everyone has one, and they usually stink
Smoke
Shoot
Snort
whatever you need to get you through
but...
What about when its not drugs?
How does she disclose
When her scars itch
When she's twitching
Scratching
Looking for something
what is it
what is it
what is it
what is it
where is it
where where where....
Her mind races
Her scars burn hot
Hot enough to burn her shorts
Hotter than her tears
There
Under the board on her stand
Shiny and stolen
Mechanical pencils are better anyway
She mutters to herself
Up goes her shorts
Up goes her sleeves
1
2
3
4
5
Dont count, make them even
In a line
Not like that
Her sister gets clean
She's left in limbo
How could she justify
How could she seek help
When she does it to herself
When it wont make her *****
When it wont make her seize
Addictions, everyone has one
For her, there's a relapse on the way

She declared war upon herself in the midst of her savage self-hatred
Cutting her skin and suffocating her throat till she begged for air’s price.
She was once was a child afraid of just touching any sharp blade
Encase it accidentally cuts her and now: She doesn’t think twice

before picking up that blade and shoveling it into her skin like a smith.
She baked lies on her forgotten suicide note. Lies that disguised
themselves in coats of truth. She strangled her own chest with
ropes of words she didn't utter and blocked new hope from unsupervised

entering into her dejected lungs that begged for life's meaning not reprimands.
But she found no purpose to keep her garden living so she therefore
poisoned every plant and washed any seeds of life left in her sunless lands
down the drain until she fell into an everlasting sleep. Her wish for

peace had come to her but others wept on the loss of a friend, student, daughter, and one less hazed
family member. They never believed her when she said she wanted to commit suicide anyways.

1 cut
2 cuts
3 cuts
4
As much as it takes, I must do more
5 cuts
6cuts
7cuts
8
Oh my, it'll be too late
9 cuts
10 cuts
11 cuts
12
It's an addiction now, oh well

A single cut from my bony wrist--
    up towards my darkened elbow

It's amazing how blood slowly seeps through--
    staining its path a rich crimson hue

A gentle throb before a numbing ache--
    much like before, it's always the same

Shallow wounds are, dare I say--
     nothing more than teasing temptresses of our world today

Blood seeps through, staining its path--
     much like our influence--as we ignore nature's wrath

It's amazing how I still manage to contemplate--
     while ignoring how the cut has become increasingly irate

Shallow wounds

     Shallow wounds

          Shallow wounds.

I really don't understand the sight--
     It just isn't for me--try as I might

Then again, this isn't something I necessarily hate--
     but it surely isn't something I'll try again after this day

Shallow wounds

     Shallow wounds

          Shallow wounds.

Care to give it a try?

   It might not have done it for me--

      but I know it's sure to satisfy.

"She does it for attention"
Wrong
Attention is what made me start in the first place
Getting noticed
Coming out
It was all a mistake
This is what happens when the quiet girl tries to change
People talk
"****"
"*****"
"Thot"
They all say this
Attention?
Don't I have enough "attention" focused on me already?
Them noticing me
That is why I started
And my home life isn't much better
Safety
It doesn't exist
Trust
Can only be broken so many times
So I take my blade to my skin
Not for you
Or anyone else
But for me
So I can feel something
Cause you make me numb
So I can get what I deserve
Like you say I should
My promises
Broken
Promises
Or
Empty words that don't mean ****
My life isn't as perfect as my smile tells
So I take the blade
To new places on my body
I'm sorry
But attention is what got me here

--StoryMakerInProgress