Suicide Poetry/Quotes/Depression/Anxiety

Bad Habits

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You tell me I'm yours
Yet I feel like a prisoner
You tell me my bad habits can be controlled
Yet why do I get the feeling of cutting my skin
I want to bleed
I want to get away
My bad habits are calling for me
They tell me to rip my skin apart
They beg me to cut
My bad habits scream at me
Telling me to make a mess
Let the blood run from my thighs
I don't know who's in control anymore -R.M