HEY WARNING! THIS IS EXTREMELY GRAPHIC! I'VE HAD SOME SHIT SO READ WITH CAUTION!
⚠️⚠️⚠️SELF-HARM TRIGGER⚠️⚠️⚠️
If this is a diary
So be it
But this is what'll be in it
Blood from when I cut
And lipstick that's red
All from wounds to be blunt
Because I want a memory of the worst times in life
So I can understand it gets worse from here
There's blood on my lips
Cheeks, nose, this book, and hips
Not to mention the knife
Which I sharpened so I could cut worh strife;
I cut my thighs
So I won't have unwanted eyes
Then I rub it on my face
So I can pretend to be the bad guy
Honestly it helps me not to cry
For my life is so riddled with lies
When I feel all I want is to die
I cut myself so that I can't cry
This time it was over what kills and saves me
Music,
My song will be the death and life of me.
This was difficult. I wrote this a while ago and I'm in a way better place now.
YOU ARE READING
The Weeping Woods
PoetryAgony in the form of stanzas, words in the form of little silent cries. I made the cover but I don't own any of the pictures. !There's also quite a bit of explicit language!
