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Natalia May 4
I found that darkness within,
That which kept me awake,
And would lead me into a spin.

Found under blades,
On mellow nights.
As the sun fades

The shadow appears.
Bringing all my sorrows,
All my worries and fears.

The knife would cure
The overwhelming feelings,
All which I saw impure.

Blood would run dry,
Leaving me scarred.
Yet, I would still cry.

That shadow is gone,
Though there are many more.
I am no longer a pawn.
Speaks for itself. I battle with self-harm, I have been winning for a while but that's not to say the thought doesn't creep up. But I find myself under a blade less & less as time has gone.
Ash Saveman Apr 5
Slash slash
Knife in hand
Slash slash
Thoughts in head
Slash slash
Skin red
Slash slash
Wake up dead
Riley Ross Dec 2019
People believe that red is a warm color, like red apples in July. The ones we wished we picked instead of the red crabapples we found. The warmth we found was in the sickness we got after eating too many of them, then it went as cold as the bizarre that same year. If that was the year I would had changed into the person I am today instead, maybe the blood wouldn't have dripped out of me along with the last bit of my sanity. Maybe it would have frozen in place and the snow would have remained purity white.
Red isn't warmth at all, red isn't spicy as people would say. It is bitter, it is cold like how the blood runs down my thighs, I am not talking about the blood from being a ******* person with a ****** that cries ruby red blood monthly. I am talking about how the cold blood runs down my thighs, from my reopened scarred thighs, when I'm crying and begging for control of my body again. All I can think of is how I cannot stop until my thigh is that color, because then I'll see those purple scars when I'm sick again and again and again until I finally give in and stab myself. At this point, might be better than what I've done. What I am really is a hopeless lost cause, just a basket case
Trigger warning: self harm
Noah Apr 2019
Things are always okay
Until midnight rolls around

At midnight my demons emerge
At midnight my thoughts race
At midnight I remember

I remember I'm useless
I remember I'm unloved
I remember I'm unwanted

Things always okay
Until midnight rolls around

At midnight I can't sleep
At midnight I can't breathe
At midnight I can't feel

My eyes are filled with tear
My skin is covered in cuts
My bathtub is stained in blood

Things are never okay
Until midnight rolls around
4-9-19
Sometimes, in the shower
I think of all the hands I have let touch me
And have to scrub myself so hard my skin blisters,
Use my nails like a blunt knife, try to tear into a new skin
One they have never seen
I'm reminded of all the ways I have said no with my body,
All the times it was ignored,
And turn the water so hot I feel hell singing in my blood.
I hear all the ways I said no with my tongue,
All the times it was ignored,
Bite down on lips that never spoke loud enough
I’d sever this useless muscle from my mouth
If only I hadn’t already hidden the razors.
But sometimes, in the shower
I think of the times I have touched myself
Ran fingers over a soft-skinned body
That could not do more to save me
And I remind myself that this precipice of hatred,
The dancing cliff-edge of blaming myself
Should not lead to scars and blood in the drain
I think of all the ways the water has held me
Has embraced me for hours and asked me to give nothing in return
In these moments I know a body is just flesh
This sinew and marrow carcass of me
Is blameless for the reaching hands
Of the ****** and rotten bodies of them
It’s just a frightened body
And I forgive it
I forgive it
mythie Nov 2017
The sky is bright blue.
Mesmerising.

The air is fresh and clean.
Beautiful.

This could all be a dream, but, it seems it's not.
As his nightmares have become his dreams.

Though, the pleasant picture fades to black, never to be seen again.

Cold, moist wind, blowing in all directions.
Horrible.

Blackness stained under fingernails.
Putrid.

He battered his tiny fist to feel something.
Just to feel something.
His stomach painted violet.

The bathtub filled to the brim with lukewarm water.
His fingers prune immediately.
His tears like rain in the tub.

Sinking his head down, wishing to be reborn.
A glass child, breaking at the seams.
mythie Nov 2017
Warm arms cradling a cold boy.
Reassurance is only temporarily comforting.
Tears stain the boy, seeping into his soul.

He knows they care, but they cannot help.
The scars covering his arms are apparent.
But he doesn't care anymore.

It helps him relax and washes away his sorrows.
The warm arms grip tighter.
"I won't go away."

He knows they care.
He's well aware.
But from beneath the warm cocoon.
He picks up a razor.

In a world full of people, nobody can help.
You live in isolation; full of self-doubt.
mythie Nov 2017
There was a little girl,
Never seen, never heard,
Her heart ached,
Her vision blurred.

Hannah drank until dawn,
Her knuckles bruised and ******,
For a woman, she was brawn,
Oh, what an unlucky little girl.

She looked next to the sink, there were tablets,
Hoping to forget Hannah's abusive habits,
The little girl heard screams and shouts,
Her tears stung and she swallowed her doubts.

Crashing, crying and threats,
The little girl cries behind the door,
Hannah cannot pay her debts,
She looks next to the sink and finds her answer.

The little girl slashes her wrists,
Taking more tablets, this makes six.
The bruises will fade tomorrow,
Though, the blood continues to flow.
xavier May 2017
my body says "i am doing
the best i can"
my brain accuses
"but why aren't you better?"
the scar tissue in my skin murmurs
"i am healing, this is a sign that we are not broken, not dead, not helpless"
my brain screams back
"but why do you show the signs that we once thought we were!
why are we healing and not healed"
my brain refuses to stop picking open the scabs
again.
*shrug emoji*
Bella Apr 2015
No longer memories,
just empty scenes in my mind
endlessly replaying
im ready to move on
these fragments of broken glass keep cutting me so deep,
rupturing my veins and spilling out my bones,
just let me go and let me be
i wanna get out
i wanna be free
its like a record player
stuck on repeat
im running in place
im running alone
I see new scars
on top of scars,
on top of scars
each time i look they multiply
each time i look i wanna tear my skin
piece by piece
take it away
because the more i learn to love myself
the more it hurts to see.
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