I gave myself to the knife


If i could cry i would weep for all eternity. If i could scream i would, i can do neither so i mourn in the most awful silence imaginable.. The sadness and pain is bottled up inside and i ache to let out. So i ran into a room were i could no longer be judged, no longer be portrayed as a freak or weirdo. I just needed release, needed these leverages to break. I ached for satisfaction.Thrived to somehow be comfortable in the skin i so dis comfortably wore. So i gave myself to the knife... asked it to bite a little harder, drew a little deeper. The hot scarlet rush felt so delicious so i asked it to penetrate deeper,and i pressed harder. This time was like the others, a subtle rend of anxious skin, a gentle pulse of crimson jut enough to hush the demons shrieking inside my brain.
Each second that passed by would cover up these wounds in serenity. These moments were my own volition to this devil growing inside me. gnawing at my festering flesh. Every cicatrix would be forced open by this metal vampire that craved blood.
Blood dripping off the sharpest end of this tool that promised it was able to fix all my problems i could not control. Allowing the pain in my heart to stop beating, stop pounding on a chest that was too weak to breath on its own. Allowing me time to soak up this bittersweet moment. Now nearly every night i give myself to the knife, asking it to cut deeper and deeper to reveal these secrets i keep locked away in veins. Maybe if i cut them open they can reveal to me parts of me ive spent all my life searching to understand. My whole being is fixated on the feeling of having release from these wounds therapy tries to stitch up. I no longer cry. No longer scream. I have become mute in my own body. Tearless in my own soul. I just use this silver object as a rush to satisfy my tainted heart.
I have fallen victimized to something others find abnormal. They snort drugs, while i find pleasure smelling the aroma of my own blood as it gushes out of the veins that keep it concealed. Others find happiness in the presence of others, while i sit lonely.Playing operation with the flesh covering MY bones. Picking pieces that allow me to feel victorious. Others are tempted to harm others to please their own fucked up desires, while i pacify my own fucked up emotions, by using this knife as a noxious way of creating merriment....
But tonight is one of those nights were this metal vampires teeth no longer penetrate deep enough, no longer bite hard enough, no longer suck up enough blood. So im left unsatisfied. craving to appease this appetite of emotions. I am left vulnerably open thinking of different solutions to this conclusion. Im innervated wondering if this time i may go too far... because i have given my self to the knife.


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