I knew I wasn't okay the moment I cut for the first time. The way it felt when the metal of the blade going into my skin hurt so bad but the voices in my head finally stopped. I knew I should get help. But I thought I could save myself. I thought I could control it. Then it started controlling me.
All of a sudden I couldn't breathe normally. Everyday. No matter what. It just sucked me in. I couldn't even move properly.
I could breathe but I couldn't all at the same time. I was fine but I wasn't.
Nothing could fix me now.
Nothing could fix me now.
Not love.
Not sex.
Not food.
Not crying.
Not bleeding.
Not dying.
Not living.
Nothing.
I was a goner from that moment on.
And I still am.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Wings
Poetry'For someone so small you're pretty strong. For someone so brave you're pretty shy. For someone so observant you're pretty abnormal.' For someone like me it's pretty hard to decide who I wanna be or where I want to fit in. So this isn't exactly poet...
