…pain… it feels refilling, refreshing.
Watching that red liquid,
Slide down my pale crust.
One slice and two then three ... so much red....
Cutting with my blade…so I can feel.
Admiring the scars I contain.
Bleeding just to make sure I’m breathing,
Quenching my desire for control momentarily,
Letting the relief flow thoughout.
It’s inhumane they tell me,
But they have not felt what I have!
“What’s wrong?” They ask me,
But no words can justify the answer…
Then comes the ache I feel,
When realizing they do not actually care.
They are blind to my emptiness … paranoia.
Those who do notice, just give up, and
My little lost soul continues to wish for a savior.
Every time he yells more liquid will run...
He, who is meant to be my first love.
He, who tells me I am useless, wretched, or revolting.
He, who causes me to sleep with pain.
He, who torments me for living,
Creates a new heartbreak, with every promise.
Why will he not help me?
Why does he not love me?
Why has he not killed me?
My knife is my only happiness.
I smile a “beautiful” smile everyday, but
A smile doesn’t always mean happiness.
Eyes that everyone adores. A laugh many enjoy.
It is all fake, but no one would suspect it.
I have become a fine actress,
Becoming the lies that have flown out of my mouth.
Someone will see the agony in my eyes,
The windows to the soul.
I am a puzzle that is missing a few pieces, unwanted.
I call out into the darkness,
Waiting for a response,
For anyone to save me,
Before it’s too late…
I feel like I’m going to snap,
Someday I’m going to break,
If someone doesn’t save me quick,
Then it’ll all be to late……………..