Where is the Old me?
The one who was sweet and
Free.
The me that could
Actually stand up for herself
During a spat.
Maybe, she's been shoved
Down
Down
Into the darkness.
Maybe the new, scary me has been
someone who was dying to get out.
Should I put away the
Razor?
Or make a new wound to have to
Heal?
Should I push away,
Or more pretending?
Maybe Hallie and I are scarily alike.
Self harm.
Depression.
The cutting is getting worse.
I might do it tomorrow,
I might have done it yesterday.
I might do it right now.
YOU ARE READING
Lets go a little older and darker..
RandomSelf harm and other dark poems and writings.