I can’t do much these days When I wanted to fill quiet space I used to listen to sad songs Because I loved them And related to them But I don’t do that much anymore To save my heart The suffering
I can’t do much these days When I didn’t want to go to bed I used to smoke cigarettes at night Because I loved nicotine And they calmed me But I don’t do that much anymore To save my lungs From blackening
I can’t do much these days When I was small I used to steal food from the kitchen Because I loved eating until I felt sick And I liked the taste But I don’t to that much anymore To save my heart From disease
I can’t do much these days When I was in high school I used to try to starve myself until I would faint Because I loved being skinny And I hated my body But I don’t do that much anymore To save my stomach From aching
I can’t do much these days When I was eleven or twelve I used to open and hurt my skin Because I loved pain And I felt like I was bursting anyway But I don’t do that much anymore To save my tissue From scarring
I can’t do much these days When I was a teenager I used to pop 100mg Adderall during the day Because I loved medicating And my doctor told me it was okay But I don’t do that much anymore To save mind From tweaking
I can’t do much these days When I wanted to die I used to destroy myself Because I loved to hurt And I felt I deserved it But I don’t do that much anymore To save my mom The grief
Every where I go I see blunt objects Feel the urge To rush forward And crack Smack Bash Smash My eggshell head Wide open Right on my forehead Displaying the dirt The mud The ***** Black sludge In my cranium In my core I want to blast it out Into the floor
My license is suspended right now. I can’t see my therapist. I can’t change my meds like I was planning to. I can clean my room and change things at home, but I know that I won’t.
I wrote a poem one day That made my blood feel hot in my veins So I tore at my skin like a scratch ticket Until I won my liquid red prize I smeared it on the page And looked at what I did with tears in my eyes I hid it for months but couldn’t stop being afraid So I biked over to the neighborhood lake And I threw the diary I bled in As far as a could into the water But my blood never stopped growing hotter
I clawed and gouged all of my limbs Trying to bleed my way out of my skin I didn’t know what I was doing But I knew it must be hid Because before the diary was thrown I remembered that poem I took the tip of the sharpest pencil And tried to carve it one letter a day Into my arm I started to keep my sleeves down And fear set in So I took that same pencil And scratched it out of my skin
People started to notice then And ask what happened to my arm So I learned to make excuses And better hide my self harm
Back then I was twelve I read two to three books a day But nothing and nobody I knew about Made what I did make sense I didn’t know why I did it I just knew I had to And now I hate to look back It just makes me sad to
Innocent baby girl Marring sweet young skin It took seconds to do it But years until the gravity set in I still wouldn’t take it back Despite all the countless scars Because it all leads to the fact That I am who I am now Because of what I did then
Isn't it insane that mental and physical are so intertwined through pain?
Slice your wrists when you're numb you won't feel a thing If you are truly numb a cut with a blade is painless
then slowly as the euphoria subsides a dull throbbing begins it's quiet at first if you listen too hard it's not there at all
then as the night goes on and the high is gone you feel everything each slice each word and at that moment all you want is for the numb to return
Eventually the wounds begin to heal they don't hurt like they used to And you are renewed a blank canvas null of emotion and you pick up the blade again for all that you want now is the pain to return to paint your paper red and to feel everything once more;
Relapsed again... now my clothes are soaked in blood and my mind is at rest...