Your hands are heat and treachery
They burn like irons brand, unmaking me
Your voice is whispers
Trembling like hands meant to
Cut this flesh, to open up
Feel the beat and make it stop
Find the wounds that meant I wish
Meant I want, meant I miss
Find the million reasons why
Find the words that say goodbye
My heart is filled with blood and flies
But nothing's harder than taking lies
Rip my throat out, pin me down
Breathe into me, darkness found
Let it pound like cold and ice
And let it slice, words into my mind
Let it scar me inside, out
Let it shout, "I'm fucking dead inside"
And you'll find
This was never meant to be
YOU ARE READING
trigger points.
PoetryA collection of my original poetry/prose from 2006 onwards. Warnings: these poems deal with mental illness, including mentions of self harm, suicide, emotional anguish and abuse. Please do not read if you might be triggered by such content.
