TW: ⚠️ Self Harm.
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I love me when I cut myself.
I love the crimson on my skin.
I awe at its vibrance.
Exquisite enough to make all else dim.
I don't like my Canvas pale,
So let me paint it purple.
Now I'm loving the colours but still
My head is in a constant burble.
So I'll let my blade lose
I'll let it show it's magic.
But no matter how dainty my story flows,
It dries up to look tragic.
No! I can't hate my art
So I'll shred my Canvas into a million stars.
I'll wait till my wine ages
I'll wait till it turns into pretty scars.
My beauty is an acquired taste
No wonder a sight makes you afraid.
You say fading scars ruin my art?
I'll just replenish it with my blade.
Still I wish I didn't have to do it.
I wish it was as easy as you say.
But I can't abandon my pain by myself.
I can't let my beauty decay.
Beauty is in strangeness.
I gain mine with pain.
Still I wish someone will love me
I hope they turn my art into vain.
-Isha Pathania
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YOU ARE READING
Silent Screams- Poems
PoetrySelf written poems about the hidden feelings that no one knows but many can relate. Writing my own life giving words to my mind. Exquisitely self destructive ♡
