It’s still surreal
I can’t believe it
I... I did this
God... what have I done?
Why am I covered in lines?
Marks of illness and self hatred
Truly, I loathe few things more
Because I see all of me
And you should stay away
I will destroy what’s close
As long as I get a thrill

tw self harm



My skin is decorated in scars
Adorned with marks
Of battles lost
Nights surrendered
To the blade

Each night they come to me
The thoughts
Temptations
Don’t you wanna see it again??
Don’t you wanna watch yourself bleed?
And I just...
I trace the scars along my wrist
Along my thigh
And remember the weight
Each and every line a burden
Something I have to carry
And if I have any fight left in me
I won’t make it heavier
For myself to carry tomorrow

“Show us your scars”
When they should’ve said shame  

“Point on where it hurts”
Yet they couldn’t find a cure

“Have you been thinking about death?”
Like my thoughts wander to anything else

“Just take this pill in the morning”
But I‘m up every morning

“You’re safe here”
I felt their eyes under my skin

“Have you assaulted anyone in your life?”
Can’t they see that I‘m the victim here

“Can we send you home without worrying?”
As if I can guarantee them my life,
as if I have a home

“Bring your mother with you in the next session”
But I’m in therapy because of her  

“Have you considered electroshock therapy?”
And now they want to cause me more trauma

“How many times have you attempted suicide?”
“Enough times to believe that I have already died” I said finally

For how much longer
do I have to wash my hands?  
                      sleep in the burning house?              
                      carry this heavy heart?
                      weep?
                      bleed?
                      ask for bandages?
                      hide my scars?
                      see my therapist?
                      lose touch?
                      force a smile?
                      see my reflection?
                      try to fix the brokenness?
                      adjust to new meds?
                      wish I was dead?
                      wash my hair?
                      trim my nails?
                      write these lines?
                      avoid my birthday?
                      fight the urges?
                      endure myself?
                      cling to this life?

In the morning,
alone,
I plant a pill
on my tongue,
and it blooms
like a chemical kiss

In the afternoon,
I wash my face and
wounds with blood

At midnight,
the rain pours
on my pillow,
but I don’t weep

Every night,
I sleep in the burning house,
but cannot feel its warmth

The only motherly thing I knew
was the coldness of my blade;
gently washing away the
sadness of my burdened heart

It starts with curiosity
It starts with impulse

One cut here
One cut there

It wont get out of hand
I swear

Impulse continues
This awful addiction

You know it's wrong
So you cover it up

Bracelets
Long sleeves

Kiss swimming goodbye
You can't swim in long sleeves

The habit never ends
You know it's true

The pull is always there
Waiting for you

tw self harm


Blood all over
I’m glad
I’m content
Satisfied
It’s only right when I’m wounded
Relapse was inevitable
I don’t even feel guilty...
I just want more....

tw self harm


Ha... I’m bleeding
Once again
I can’t even feel it
Should it hurt?
Have I gone numb?

Ah... there we go...
A bit of sting....
And the red....
All that red....
I just.... I wanna open it
I want it open.... flowing
I want the blood out of me
I want it out!!

Depression crawls into my head
I try to lie down
To quiet the chaos
It gets louder
Demanding to be noticed
My stomach turns
My head aches
My hand reaches for the blade....
I don’t want new scars
I do not want new scars
I DO NOT