I was cursed with wisdom
from the moment I was born
in this shiny and deadly prison
which they all call it ‘’the world’’

since the day I’ve learnt to know
I aimed to buy back my freedom
the price was high, and tended to grow
it’s a greedy and corrupt kingdom

They all asked me for money
and I offered them my gold
they said it has no value…
I said ‘’it has more than you can hold!’’

I just wanted to leave this madness
before time ends, and I’m too old
and stop to breathe this blackness
this sadness, rust and cold.

Now, I’m old and careless…
and I’ve failed my very goal,
but you my son, do not be reckless,
chose faster, live mindful and take control.

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 is empty,
And my wrist are stained red.

I want to go back to the innocent girl I was not the one that knows hurt. Not the girl that knows how the world works.

"is cutting a sin?"
you ask me.
only fourteen years old.
and you show me your wrists.
one line for the divorce
another for your mother's death
a 3rd to feel the sadness in a tangible form.
but there's a fourth line, it's the strongest
it's the lifeline
and I threw it to you the moment you told me.

The decision is never really a choice
The low numbness and lack of feeling is fine
It can be contained and dealt with (Hidden)
Feeling is what triggers it
The sudden need to gasp, the jump in your heart
That believes it is hunted, haunted by the future past present
The hand in your gut, poking and prodding your intestines
Subtly and gently pulling your stomach

Feeling is what is unbearable
I have nothing to hit
No wounds to heal
Nothing to show for my inner turmoil
Except for the marks that I make
On the crook of my arm
That I hide only until they close
Because they never heal

Dark haired girl
White skin that doesn't match
Blue eyes
Surrounded by black
Heart shaped face
Smile so fake
Hides the fact
She wishes to be a memory
She takes her razor and drags it across her skin
To know she is still there
When she's alone in the dark she falls apart
It's became her routine to cry at night
And rip her skin apart
When the red drips from her wrist
And the pain shoots through her
She's alive

The smell of my own burning flesh curls my nose
I clinch my fist as I try not to scream
I lift up only to push the hot iron back down on my skin
The burns don't show on my dark skin for that I am greatful
But the pain inside is so deep, my heart so torn
This is not enough, it will never be enough
I grab the stolen blade and piece it through my skin
At first nothing, but then the blood slowly peeks through the cuts.

I want to cry
I want to scream
But there is nothing left in me to let out but my own blood
So I keep pressing the knife to my skin
Until the pain has passed

I quietly turn on the shower and rinse myself off
The water changes color with my stain
Then quickly goes clear

I wash up then hide the new damage
I'm back to my old daily struggle