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Curled up in the corner in dead of the night.
Afraid of darkness and praying for light.
 
Eyes peer from the ceiling. Hands reach from the floor.
Hearts beat from the walls, and he stands at the door.
 
No chemical shields me. No masquerade hides.
The sweat of my body, the fear in my eyes.
 
He’s pounding and pounding and growing in strength.
He’s growing in hunger and looking for prey.
 
He whispers to call me from deep in my mind.
With lies and with luring each weakness he finds.
 
But I know what he wants yes, I know where it leads.
I’ve scars to remind me of all the past deeds.
 
But the door he can’t open and that’s why he calls.
So, I’m curled in the corner… afraid that I’ll fall.
The feeling
haunts me
time and time again.
I feel it as it’s coming
like a scent upon the wind.
 
Like wind across the predator
wafts out to warn the prey.
So likewise, all I know and feel
screams, “turn and run away!”
 
But something deep inside me
in a way I can’t explain,
finds pleasure in the desecration,
need inside the pain.
 
So, mind and heart and faculty
drink of the traitor’s blood,
and render my will helpless
like a reed against the flood.
 
Then yet again I falter
for I now become as they.
The predator has full control…
I want to be the prey.
Annie Feb 12
Blood, more blood
On the walls
The door

What you see is rusted blood stains
I see the flashbacks
Of myself,
Injecting poison
Thinking it’ll save me from my demons

You see sickening red colour,
I see my struggle
I see the girl swaying in thin air,
Trying not to fall, trying not to collapse

I see the arms with blood running down them,
I hear the muffled screams, “Help me, someone?”
Oh what a sight, that I can’t un-see now
She’s falling, hitting her head on the floor

Is she brainsick?
To yet put herself in this mess again
Overdosing like it’s a candy you can’t resist

Oh but, she’s only a human,
Trying to survive, trying not to die of emotions
Trying to let go of traumas she can’t forget
She’s only a girl
She’s only a human
She’s not a monster
Mateusz Szot Feb 10
My reflection glistens,
in the hard-edged mirror,
No one listens,
when i mention the scissor.
The tip of the sword,
meets my skin,
not a single word,
replenishes the sin.
Drowning in tears,
my heart sinks low,
with blood red fears,
my heart rate, low.
Guilt lies near,
with regret and despair,
not a single thought clear,
i melt completely bare.
Anno Jan 3
The stress made me relapse.
the day after new years eve,
i relapsed.
i broke my four months streak.
It didn't feel bad, or disappointing.
i didn't even feel guilt.
now I feel guilty for not feeling guilt.
But it was so good.
I relapsed two days into 2025.
and I knew it was coming.
having never been clean for that long before,
i knew I would come back to it.
it's my safe place, the pain, the punishment.

I want to get worse and to f*ck myself up and I want people to not know about anything until it's too late, until I am done, until it's over.
I don't think this is even a poem, it's just me ranting about my silly little problems. Can't wait until school starts in a few days and it'll get worse!
Nobody Nov 2024
Slice
Slice
Slice
I told myself i wasnt addicted
Cut
Cut
Cut
I was doing so well
Scrape
Scrape
Scrape
Got in a fight with my friend
Bleed
Bleed
Bleed
Why do I do this to myself...

Blood bleeds through my jeans
Red blotches, displaying my shame
My pain
Yet they still believe me when i say im ok
I got in a fight with my friend. She and i had a lot of rough patches through the last couple years. I admitted to her i made some mistakes but she refuses to recognize that she literally left me with trauma and says that i was just being a *******. She refuses to see my side of the story. We just finished the fight over text and i got the urge to... yeah. I was clean for 5 days. Haha thats a personal record for me since august. How dumb of me to think that i could go a week without it. Am i the problem??? Did i make the mistake??? Also for context this isn't what i meant by my main trauma source, just part of it. Not ready to talk about the other part yet
Kayla S Nov 2024
8 months clean, relapsing would be collapsing.  

A locked bathroom door, the voices yelling - no, screaming.
I hear my mother running up the stairs, the pounding of her footsteps mimics the pounding inside my head, it's war.

I can feel blood dripping down onto the rest of my body.
The tears stream down my face as I try to let my head create a feeling of melancholy

There's sirens outside now, I know they're for me. You can see the neon purple lights from the window. I'm just waiting, waiting for death to set me free.

On the stretcher with gauze covering up the masterpiece I made to what use to be pristine skin, I close my eyes, reminding myself to stay awake. my hope stretching thin.

The voices of my neighbors, overcome the sounds of mom's sobs. I wish my own mind didn't lock me chambers.
It's my first poem on here and really just me testing my creativity with my own life experiences. I hope whoever sees this likes it! <3
Rose Oct 2024
It feels all too familiar,
this emptiness in my chest,
No, no, no-not again,
please let my heart rest.

I fought so hard,
to leave that dark hole,
now I'm falling back in-
how do I save my soul?

I can't do this again,
I'm so scared.
I can't go back...
I almost died there.
welp
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