(trigger warning)
I don't like to twist my words
I twist the knife, in my skin cause I'm too tired to fight
Rational thoughts never cross my mind
To understand the fragility of life
As I breathe in the unhealthy smoke
When no one is at home
Just me, a sharp object
Touching my skin and my bone
Wearing full sleeve clothes
To avoid the discussion of it in a controversial toneI write letters and address them to myself
Out of fear of not reaching out for help
Even when I'm stuck in a situation like hell
But it's not a big deal
And these wounds wouldn't affect me
Unless this habit becomes a necessity
When I breathe in the unhealthy smoke
Each wound will have a scar
And the scars will have a lore
When I no longer conceal my pain with a jokeEveryone hid inside the shelter when the war broke down
While I was cutting my wounds open in a crowd
I can't recompense the scars
I can tell you about the suicide note
That I hid in my drawer
They tell me that I'm young
But I'm also numb
And never enough
The music dries
You hear the war cries
Some words pierce through my heart
The reason behind the wounds and scars
So I hope you find that suicide note
And never buy cigarettes for newbornswritten by vikshar varma
(on 23rd sept 2022)
YOU ARE READING
Cutting my wounds open
PoetryTW a desperate moment and a sharp object. a story behind 9 wounds while i cut open each one in a detailed and cryptic way. Cutting my wounds open. (prequel to my marketable mind)