I can't stop thinking of it
How the razor feels so cool in my hands
Fitting so perfectly between the grip of finger and thumb
How it appears from nothing
Pink
to
Bright red
Beads of blood pooling along the fine line of open flesh
The cold burn of alcohol
The soreness and sting with every step

I can't stop thinking of his blood
What if mine looked like that one day
How strangely romantic it would be
to bleed out the hurt together

I woke up craving it
He kisses me hard before I leave him behind in my dreams
It does not hurt during
Only after
perhaps these dreams are much like razors

I woke up craving to open myself up
clavicle to stomach
pour myself out over white sheets
the stains wont come out
My mom would throw them away

The place where i once felt safe
has grown teeth and a devious grin
come in my friend, while I chew you like gum
and spit you out when the sweetness has subsided

Your mother spoon-feeds you happiness.
But at some point
the happiness becomes rotten.

So she cuts your meat in pieces
and feeds it to the therapist.
In hope of answers.

But she will never find the knifes
cutting slowly in your mind.
For you are hopeless.

An addiction
A release
You love the pain
You deserve the pain
You're not worth the love
Yet you're given love
He loves you
They love you
Put down the blade silly girl
Open your eyes
Look at all of them
They love you
Set the blade down
You will pick it up again
And again
But you will slow your habit
The love will shine through
Pick up the blade
Look at what once hurt you
Look at it with pain
And feel it in your heart
This still brings you marks upon your skin
This blade left scars
Curious marks
It will get better
You just have to open your eyes
Goodbye blade
I may see you soon
But you won't take me over anymore
Not tonight
Not tomorrow
He loves you
They love you
Open your eyes
Embrace the love
Not the pain
Goodbye blade

--StoryMakerInProgress

Self harm is breathing
we may not understand.
Cutting open the air.
Breathing again.

Does it hurt to breath?
The pain of living.

I can't stop.
Not again.

They just look like paper cuts, only skin deep.

The paper cuts are of a reminder of crying myself to sleep.



They just look like paper cuts, imprinted on my arm.

Too bad these paper cuts are caused by my self harm.



They just look like paper cuts, whispers of stinging hurt.

Hurt that is easily hidden by a long sleeve shirt.



They just look like paper cuts, barely there to stay.

Too bad these paper cuts will never go away.



They just look like paper cuts, but why do they scar?

It's because these paper cuts are much deeper by far.

Suicide,
Something that can take this pain away
Suicide,
The cowards way out
Suicide,
Something I’m too weak to do
So many ways to do it,
So many ways to die by my own hand
It’s the only way out
From the pain of everything
The pain of being bullied
The pain  of being worthless
The pain of being ME
Weather it be a blade to my wrist,
Or a noose around my neck,
Or a gun to my head,
Or a bridge 20 feet high,
Getting away from this
World would be a blessing
No one would care if I died,
No one would notice that I’m gone,
No one would do anything about it,
Just like no one prevented me.

I’m sorry that I don’t always
Find the time for exercising
And sometimes my room is cluttered
I’m not a real clean person

I’m sorry that sometimes
I leave my cereal bowl
On the table
I don’t relate, half the time
To things that are important

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I’m good at school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

I know sometimes
I’m not perfect
I do not practice
What I preach
But neither do you
Cause no one can
Don’t mean to burst your bubble.

I can’t read minds,
You’d like me to
I wish I could
Cause then I’d know
Exactly when you’re mad at me
And then I wouldn’t need
To have these pointless
Panic Attacks
My brain thinks are so important
I should see a doctor

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I do well school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

I like to think
I’m unique
I try to stand outside the crowd
But you told me
I sure blend in well
I think that’s mean
Because you’re the most
Basic ***** I’ve ever known
But maybe you’re right,
I’m just like you.

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I’m good at school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

You’re right, Mom:
A "B" is not an "A"
I’m a hoarder
I’m not healthy
I’m pretty lazy
Quite complacent
Self-righteous
Inconsiderate

But I’m doing my best, Mom