I want to scream
I want to cry
And I hate to admit it
But I want to die
I want to stop this constant hurt
To stop the voices in my head
To never again get out of bed
To stop cutting up my skin
Like it's paper
The blade a pen
But I'm an artist
And I can't quit
Every cut a step closer
To finishing my artwork
And once I finish
The lines soon fade
Till little white lines
Are all that remain
And if I make a mistake
I cut and cut
Till blood covers up
Anything that I made
And then I'll start over
Onto a clean slate
And when the lines heal
I'll trace them sometimes
Remembering the story
That lays behind each line.
YOU ARE READING
𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛 𝗕𝗘𝗗
PoetryA story full of poetry and poems no storyline don't read it if you are sensitive to it . Don't like it don't read it