Fallen Angel

2.0

There were visitors coming today. One of the workers told me to hide and to not come back until she said so.

I'm guessing they don't want, a sad, pathetic person ruining their image.

After they told me that, I packed a few belongings of mine and hid in the basement.

I don't really mind the basement, it's tranquil with dim lighting. Its beautiful.

With no where to sit, I sit on the floor and silently unpack my stuff. Making sure not to make noise I picked up a blade and stared to work.

Back before my parents had died, I had read a poem. It compared self harm to drawing. There was a time where I used to draw. With paper and pen of course. Now I draw with my arm as a canvas and a blade as a pen.

5 for my old life.
4 for my family.
3 for my lost soul.
2 for my life.
And 1 for the devil within.

I no longer cry. I came up with an inquiry a few days back. As we are born, we have a sufficient amount of tears, enough to last a lifetime. But sometimes people cry more than they were expected to. The fallen. The people/or the fallen (as I like to use) cry so much that one day their tears are gone. Unable to cry. Crying can be an escape but it can also be a limitation when you run out.

3 for the tears I no longer have.