10 was when she stared into the mirror and saw how bad she needed saving, from herself.
9 was when she closed her eyes and what she saw finally matched what she felt, nothing.
8 was when she took the blades and held them above her thighs.
7 was when she lost herself one last time and put pressure on the blades, tearing open the already scarred skin.
6 was when she let the tears spil, along with the blood.
5 was when she dropped the blades and cursed for the millionth time, hoping God would notice her.
4 was when she realised she was doing it wrong and she started praying, praying for the numbness inside to go away.
3 was when she screamed for him until her lungs gave up on her and the only sound rolling off her chapped lips were ragged breaths.
2 was when she gripped the gun and pressed it to her head, hoping if she pulled the trigger the voices would go away.
1 was when she let go for the last time, she opened her eyes and made the voices stop, along with hers.
0 well, go figure.
YOU ARE READING
It's a journal
Poetry''Instead of blades, I use pens, but it is still my blood covering the pages.'' Comment or like if I have helped or inspired you. Also if you are having trouble or you are feeling down, Feel free to talk to me. I might not be able to take the pain...
