**implications of self-harm. the poem is based on self-harm**
there's an itch beneath my skin, a whispering ache,
a silent scream that no one else can hear.
it calls to me in the quiet moments, a dark lullaby,
promising peace in the crimson flow of relief.
the thoughts swirl, a tempest of noise,
each one a needle, pricking, prodding, relentless.
but in that fleeting instant, when the skin yields,
the storm calms, the voices hush, and silence reigns.
a ritual of pain, a dance with the unseen,
where the mind's torment finds a moment's rest.
it's a secret solace, hidden beneath the sleeve,
a scarlet solace, fleeting and bittersweet.
the world fades, just for a breath,
the chaos within dulled, the itch sated.
it's a dangerous comfort, this hidden balm,
a fragile thread, binding the broken pieces.
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poems
Poetrypoems i've written. THE ONES FROM THE BOTTOM UP ARE THE BEST. i promise they get better and more lengthy. please don't take without credits. please don't copyright. and please don't make fun of these 🙏🙏😭.
