It calls to me when I am idle
Its whispers cut my soul.
The sound of it calling my name
Hurts like nothing else can.
The sound of its voice,
That selfish hiss,
That cruel, cold whisper,
Hard and unfeeling
Slices my spirit.
It wants my blood.
It is my master
And I am its slave.
I must provide.
I want to provide.
I am now the willing servant.
YOU ARE READING
Red Addiction
Poetry"What's it like to live with a self harm addiction?" I hope you never find out. ************************** TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!! ************************** Note: All poems, oneshots, quotes, etc. are mine unless stated otherwise. If you take anythin...
