Disclaimer: This post is purely fictional and any resemblance to any situation, circumstance, feature or person in reality is purely coincidental. This “short” post is just a work of my imagination
My wrists know the stories,
They have been best friends with my razor.
My veins have come to crave that tear,
My clotted blood gives my skin joy.
The high from my cutting, my solitude,
The escape from reality.
At least I get to feel something,
Even if it is pain.
The glasses hides my sunken eyes,
The smiles hides the emptiness.
The brokenness I feel runs deep,
Edging me closer to the abyss.
Who will mend me?
Who will give me a voice?
The words are stuck in my head,
The very ones that could end it all