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Dripping weekend wrist marks
Dance in the happy rain
Booming base and bleeding
Let it rush down your face
Feel it trickle down your tights
It’ll all be over now.
Poetic T Apr 8
I'm in this place a prison
of homely comforts,
that
cut upon the wrists
                           of  
          
                             my sanity.

I used to see the walls as collages
of happier times.
Now I just put lines of
                   I I I I I I the seventh
is my reality that I'll just start
                                 a new one.

They look like I, I need, I want
but never getting past the I...

As I know I'm in here for the sentence
             of security and life.

                          But,

why do I have to do it in solitary confinement,



I'm                   so                         lonely...
Gray Dawson Mar 5
Wrists
Childish wrists
Soft and white
Aside from a few lines

Wrists
Scarred and rough
Raised along different points of the wrist
Hundreds of lines on this one
Old lines

Wrists
Bruises from a tight grip
Soft little lines
Not noticeable to anyone
but the wrist

Wrists
Teary wrists
Cried into often
Soft and pale

Wrists
Everywhere
On everyone
Yet no one notices
The little signs
Sophia Nov 2019
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Sugar is sweet,
And so are you.
But the Roses have wilted,
And the violets are dead.
The sugar bowl's empty,
And my wrists are stained red.
my wrists are stained red.
Jaxey Oct 2019
I cuff our wrists together
and tell myself
you're deciding to stay
My chest hurts
Like daggers in every rib.
But even more than that
My soul
is crying.
My soul,
It’s d
        y
          i
           n
             g.
I know no other fate than to bleed
Though I am surrounded by people who filter my life
With love.
With grace
With hope.

They stand ready to fight my battles
Armed by my side
Hand in hand
Just a call away.

But it’s hard to see them
It’s hard to care
When I’m on the battleground
In the war that is defeating me.

It’s hard to reach out
When I’ve reached out a million times.
And I should be getting better
But is it fair to throw my pain on them every night?

My soul was on fire
Not with life
Not with joy
But with a slow burn
Of pain and despair
That widdled my heart to ash.

A battleground my mind once was,
Chaos that shot agony through my head
A thousand miles an hour.

It’s almost quiet now
But I can almost see the blackness,
Hear the silence,
Feel the void.

And when you feel so empty
And the smallest flutters of feelings appear,
But they come to crush you,
Not to save you...
The darkness,
The silence,
The void,
They become real.
And the blood drips down my arm.

I do not understand why I am like this
When I am getting help
When there is hope
When this “will not last forever.”
I made the decision to stay alive
So the pain would not disperse
But now I suppose
My choice may be overridden
If the pain that is trapped inside
Decides to **** me.
My body is already decaying on its own
But now I am helping it.
Why am I helping it?

I believed that talking would help
That hugs would help
That being honest would help
That showing my hurt would help.

I do not understand
How it feels like a disaster is tearing me apart
But I am getting stronger
Not in healing
But in keeping it all inside.

I’m not that honest anymore.
I pretend that I’m healing
So they will still have hope in me.
But in reality
I can’t speak
Even though I want to scream for help.
But I don’t know what I would ask for
I don’t think there is anything I could ask for.

So I remain wondering
Why do I want help,
If I try to stay hidden?
Why do I want to speak,
If I always hold my tongue?
Why do I hold my tears,
If I just want them to see me cry?
Why do I tell them I’m better,
When sometimes I still feel like dying?

I want to ask
To please keep me in mind
But that never healed me
And I know you are busy.

So I count down the days
The number until I see someone next
But it doesn’t matter much anyway
Because I will be faking a smile
And when you ask me “how are you?”
I will reply
“Good!”
Because I know they have things to do
And I know my sorrow takes time.
I understand it is annoying
To always hear I’m in darkness
So I tell you I’m in light
But God help me!
I am dying inside!
Don’t you know that?
Can’t you know without me saying so?
No.
Because even if I did
You still would not understand.
You still would not know.

This is not a joke.
This is not a game.
This is not an exaggeration.
But when I hide it so well
And speak it so darkly
I understand how it may seem so.
But trust me
You have not seen the sleepless nights
Shuddered awake with terror
Shaking like drunk cold chills
Tears pouring like a C5 hurricane
And the pain?
Well, I can’t describe it any other way
Than my body dying.

But tell me now,
Is the blood that exits my skin
That drips down to hell
Scars as a sticky note
To remind me forever,
Is that blood
Real enough?

I am supposed to help myself.
To help myself heal.
To help myself grow.
To help myself find joy
And life
And purpose
And hope.
But don’t you see,
I am helping myself?

I am hurting myself
But as my body dies
In the dark of the night
And I let it leave a little quicker
I am helping myself.
It’s the only way I know how to,
Even if it may not last forever.
Anastasia Aug 2019
Everything
That comes out my pen
My brain
And my wrists
Unsatisfying
Just simply
Not enough
It hard
To feel proud
When its nothing
But trash
I can't freaking make anything good.
Anastasia Aug 2019
I want to drown
I want to breathe the water in
And never breathe out again
I want the salt water to burn the fresh cuts in my wrists
I want the dark to cradle me as I float into never ending sleep
I want to drift off
with no sign of life
I want to drown
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