When the blade drags against my skin it doesn't hurt,
It stings and tingles but it doesn't hurt.
And I mean it's not like I do it for the pain.
There's a sick sense of relief and serenity that comes from it.
The way the blood slowly seeps out, drying before it gets to far.
Bright and red, warm in the sense that it's burns.
I don't dare cut to far or else they might notice, but I mean they don't notice anyways.
The blade is Shiney but only with the light form my phone, in my dark room blinks over it.
It calms me down, knowing it's sharp but only when I need it.
I'm going to regret it when I wake up,
I'm going to regret it when he grabs at my hand or I speak to a teacher.
It's dry now, didn't bleed to far, but now I'm curious as to what would happen if I let the blade dig in a little bit.
Would anyone see? Would it hurt when I showered? Would i care?
I guess we'll never know.
YOU ARE READING
Vent poetry
RandomThis is basically me getting out of hiatus and venting about like random things but I wanna make it sound cool. Also I will update whenever I have inspo which isn't all the time. Anyways good luck and enjoy my spelling. #45 angust #206 lust
