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This is a poem about the urge and the temptation of cutting and seeing it in someones eyes |
The cuts on her wrists are her silent screams. The long sleeves hide the scars. “I’m Fine” is the biggest lie i could ever say. You make fun of the ones who do it, your sick. There is something wrong with people who do the unreasonable. We now what it is but it’s an addiction. The sharp blade is the best friend but also the enemy. Once you start you can’t stop. The temptation is the worst, its not right but it is still ok. But the blade brings the best out of us, it breaks us, but that moment of time feels bearable for that moment. For me I get relief I feel more alive. How can i not act on the temptation? Its so high and so real that i now its true. I stop for awhile but then start again. This is the 5 time digging into my skin. leaving marks that tell me that i am alive and i awake. It gives me the feeling like i am free from my self. The blade is in sight or in mind. How can i not resist? I don’t regret it, but i try to forget it, but the scars tell me that it was real for me at one point. I believe that the relief is real, and satisfied. Why am i doing this, when i now it is wrong? |