To the ones who press blades to their thighs. I ask, do you also think the dragging metal feels like the clouds in the sky? People think we are weak but they don't understand that the pain we create is a pain we seek. As we feel the pain in our heart we shift it to our skin where the blade meets, like light kisses we once received.
To the ones who press bottles of vodka to your lips as you think, maybe this is the only love I deserve, The one that stings, the one that brings, tears to your eyes and a burn to your throat, for you have lost all hope of a natural feeling of love as it has become felt only by the pain of an empty bottle left discarded, like your heart.
To the ones that press knuckles to walls, knuckles to face, knuckles to self, knuckles to anything until it breaks, to feel the divide between the skin as it pulls a separation between what you feel emotionally and what you feel physically and they all become a blur for one second and you are able for once to just feel nothing. To not feel sore anymore, not burdened by the sink in your chest as your heart does its job as you wish it wouldn't.
To the ones who read this and know exactly what that feels like, im sorry.