One cut was never enough to satisfy her cravings
Each movement being longer and deeper into her skin
She would feel the tingling pain and that's what she yearned for
The cuts would venture to new places other than her wrists
And she would find whatever she could to cover them up
Having to battle through another day
YOU ARE READING
crossing bridges // poetry
Poetryreally short, random, grammatically incorrect, shit I've put together called poems. **TRIGGER WARNING** #21 in #freementalillness (11/29/18) #42 in #mentalproblems (11/18/18) #670 in #mental (11/22/18) #907 in #depressing (11/24/18)
