cutting knife depression bullying violence pain sorrow alone scars
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Invisible tears,
Blood stained wrists,
The world is painted gray,
Slowly fading day by day.
Withering emotions,
Broken hearts,
Eyes so sunken,
Lifeless from pain.
I was twelve when I first started doing it,
You could blame it on puberty or a teenagers strong hormones,
But as I feel each slit,
I can remember the knife I used,
The room I was in,
It’s dark out now, there’s a chill in the air;
the sun has set, the day is gone.
Just like the night I find myself alone,
questioning why society has settled to sleep
and left me to be the only one of truth.
