why?
words I couldn’t say was cut into my skin because I couldn’t communicate how I felt it was exhausting I had been clean for 2 years just to fuck it all up I don’t know why I didn’t like the pain but I loved watching me slice into my skin and watch the blood spew out what was wrong with me no I don’t like gore but looking and the pretty red colour and how it complimented my skin complexion the only way I could look so pretty and that’s how it ended me and the pretty red colour spewed out on me and the floor.
This poem is about:
Me