The Agony of Self-Destruction
Once I was a soul lost in the depths of despair, a story etched not in ink, but in the scars on my arms. The pain ran so deep that I couldn't help but turn to self-harm, as if I could edit the torment of my existence. Each cut, a desperate attempt to rewrite the haunting narrative of my life.
In those moments, I'd rehearse my pain, a gruesome performance for an audience of one, hoping to find solace in the release of crimson droplets. I was the author of my own agony, my anguish carved into my skin.
The floor became my canvas, painted with the red ink of my suffering. I bled, not in words, but in silent screams etched into the very fabric of my being. I never wrote another line, for the pain was too much to bear, and I yearned for a different story, one not dominated by the darkness within me.
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Canvas of Emotions: Painted in Poetry
PoesíaCanvas of Emotions: Painted in Poetry is a powerful collection of poems that explores the depths of human experience, from the shadows of despair to the light of resilience. Each poem is a brushstroke on the canvas of the soul, capturing the raw and...
