The urge to cut is so strong tonight
I'm miss the way it feels
A cold fire
Burning ice
Blood trickling down my arm
Dripping
Staining the tips of my fingers that forbidden red
I miss the peace of mind it brings
The breath of fresh air suddenly introduced into my stale lungs
The weight lifted
For a few moments at least
Allowing me to breathe
The satisfaction of seeing more and more lines appear
And the surge of adrenaline that comes from not knowing if I'll be able to stop
Or if I even want to...
The sharp pain that comes when I move the arm covered in fresh cuts
...and the grim knowledge that I deserve it
The sting of the shower...
The ones on my legs reopening as I roughly shave over them
The feeling of having a secret no one knows about
Of hiding it
I miss the shine of the blade and the deep red that spills out because of it
I want to cut.
And really, no one could stop me if I did.
YOU ARE READING
My Depressive Mind
PoetryThis is merely a collection of my thoughts, a glimpse into the insanity that is my mind. Enjoy. *TRIGGER WARNING*
