"Tear stained pillow,
Matching the blood stained bedsheets,
Blood pooling up from the cuts,
I created of my own will."
Its been weeks,
Even months,
Since I last harmed myself,
The thoughts still haunt me,
But I never once took action,
I was afraid,
I still am afraid.
What if someone saw them?
What if I have to go to a hospital?
What if I cut too deep,
And can't turn back?
What if I lose an excessive amount of blood,
So I'll have to be watched?
Will they think I'm suicidal?
Will they take everything away?
I stopped cutting,
The color red was no longer beautiful,
Was no longer calming,
Now.
All it is, is a color from the past,
That meant everything to me.
Razors are no longer a weapon,
Merely just objects.
Fat is no longer a word I use to describe me,
Curvy is now in my vocabulary.
"The razor is in my hands,
One wrong move and everything will fall apart,
All my hard work,
And internal fighting,
Will be for nothing,
The silver tint to the razor,
A beautiful match with a dark red"
Its all over,
The razor cut deep in my skin,
I lost all my self confidence,
My self esteem gone with the wind,
A fury calmness,
A war in my mind,
I healed,
But once again,
The sickness was too great to beat.
That red is once again my everything,
Wherever I go,
I see it, haunting me.
FAT is once again the first word on my mind,
UGLY, DISGUSTING, DISAPPOINTMENT, FAILURE, FAT, LOSER,
More haunting words,
They hurt more, than the razor that slashes away at my being.
Save me.
No reassuring words will help me,
If I can't help myself.
There is no saving me.
.I can heal.
YOU ARE READING
Drowning In Sorrow- Poetry
Poetry*Trigger Warning* Suicide, cutting, depression, abuse, self harm, death etc. ~I didn't know happiness as well as I know sorrow ❤️ Stay strong ❤️
