#twselfharm
out of my body
into my legs
my arms
the tips of my fingers
somewhere i won't feel it
May 24, 2022
May 24, 2022 at 10:04 AM UTC
the glint of an eye
a cheeky smile
the sunshine after a storm
a hug after a bad day
the reflection of metal
a handle of black
the sharpness of pain
a drop of blood falling from a wrist
Mar 16, 2022
Mar 16, 2022 at 4:48 AM UTC
It's strange how healing works.
I still have pictures on my phone
from when scars were an angry red
before they faded to a softer,
paler reminder.
At the time i thought they would never fade
would always stay there,
just as they were-
I thought i would never fade either,
would never change
yet here i am
two or three years later
and a completely different person.
Not healed,
but the pain has faded,
just a bit.
My skin is no longer covered in red;
but i don't know who i am without it
honestly, I don't know who I'll be
once everything fades.
Aug 2, 2021
Aug 2, 2021 at 12:53 PM UTC
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.
May 4, 2020
May 4, 2020 at 2:18 PM UTC
Slash slash
Knife in hand
Slash slash
Thoughts in head
Slash slash
Skin red
Slash slash
Wake up dead
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 2:46 PM UTC
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
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 1:56 AM UTC
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
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 6:25 PM UTC
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.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 1:29 AM UTC
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.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 1:25 AM UTC
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.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 1:24 AM UTC
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.
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 9:43 AM UTC
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.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 12:20 AM UTC
It is Wednesday evening
and the world feels like
a sudden inward breath.
A storm is in the air
but only I can feel it.
Silver flashes, turns to red
rivulets down my leg,
endorphins in my head
and the storm abates.
I exhale.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC