I used to be a happy person, always cheerful and smiling but those words that spilled from your hurtful mouths broke me inside. I found 2 best friends that would never betray me, their names were My Toilet and My Blade. I used them everyday. Between spilling my guts and all of the hurtful words into the toilet, to the hours I would spend carving out my skin. I wanted to look like the way society wanted me to look. When my mother who I thought was suppose to be my best friend found out all of the things I was doing she locked me up. Sitting in the padded room listening to all of the mentally sick people there I thought this is not a place I want to be. So I changed from then on. I AM A SURVIVOR OF A EATING DISORDER, SELF HARM AND MANY SUICIDE ATTEMPTS.
YOU ARE READING
My Brokenhearted Self.
RandomOkay here are a few poems that I have written about my past relationships and one somewhat short poem about my depression. Please don't judge this because this is the first time I am actually letting people know about this type of stuff that I have...
