It's easy.
draw a line.
The pressure on your arm.
A red trail behind that : what makes you happy, yet gives you so much pain.
Watching how the red liquid falls on the ground,
like paint that falls on the paper.
A red ocean made of your very own blood.
Tears falling down.
No.
We're not sad,
we're satisfied.
Cleaning the wound and let it heal.
It's not a scar.
It's a way of handling.
Handling the pain,
handling the misery.
Handling everything that made u so empty inside,
yet so full and crowded, in your mind.
Now that's done
we can move on.
Up to the next day.
that something will make you feel this exact same way.
Again and again
it will never stop
Until it's to much
and we give up.
~ M.
