Going mental making scars,
cutting marks in scores and bars,
music of a different kind,
there's no melody for future generations to find,
and play upon their instruments of string,
because these notes are etched in skin,
and with each long drawn drag of the sharpened bow,
deep notes are made, they won't soon go,
and with each turn of the music page,
rhythm goes wild in a fit of rage,
as the song reaches its peak,
mind still strong but body weak,
when plucked just right, the sharp sharp strings,
dig just deep enough to give her wings
YOU ARE READING
Self harm poems
PoesíaJust some poems I wrote about self harm, suicide and eating disorders. Please don't read if there going to trigger you x
