Cut my flesh over and over again, til I bleed out everywhere.
Turn me raw and prove that I am human.
Cut me until I suffocate and drown in my own body.
When they heal up, cut them again.
The wounds do not go away, permanently etched into my skin.
They itch to be reopened, scream for attention.
"Make me bleed again"
"Get used to your suffering"
I get comfortable in the chaos to the point where it feels like my only home.
Change? That scares me.
To be happy is different.
I reside in grief and fear.
My throne sits among the worst of it all.
My house was on fire and I keep the matches in my pocket.
My finger flies to the flame and I burn myself on purpose, I just can't help myself.
You don't need to hurt me, I already hurt myself enough.
The fire spreads across my skin like a wave over the beach.
I do not scream in agony, but sit in silence like a tree in a wildfire.
What is this hell that I have betrothed myself to?
I am married to the pain and my white dress is stained with red.
