That cut. It felt magical. Listening to sad Lo-Fi beats. Pent up stress inside me. Soft. Relaxed. No meaning. No choice needed. The cut felt somewhat magical. Mystical. It could even be described as... exotic. The cut felt soft. Swift. Simple. Still. The release of pent-up hate inside me poured. There was no meaning to it. It wasn't meant to hurt me. It wasn't meant to save me. It was simply meant to be there. To be still, silent, alone.
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Depressing Poems
PoetryA collection of poems focusing on the topic of depression. TW: Includes topic of depression and self-harm, includes profanity.
