It's been 6 months. I dream of bleeding.
My body tingles at the thought of that cold blades
Searching my scared wrist.
It's selfish to cut when my dad hits me.
It's not right to take away the pain,
When that's all I feel.
My writing gets darker the more time goes on.
The more I realize how much pain and suffering
This world brings.
Cutting has always been what I've known.
It's hard to stop when things are the same.
I'll just suffer from the inside.
We're all dying inside anyway.
Maybe a razor blade is inside me.
I won't be causing the pain. But..I'll feel it.