They say it happens at 4 am
Why is it 4 am?
Is it that 4 am is more romantic?
As the sad girl
With deadened
blue eyes
watches her blade glint
illuminated by the
moonlight
Gently,
Silently,
Slits her pale,
white,
wrists
And falls asleep on the cold, marble tiles.
They don't say it's 5 pm
They don't say his parents are watching tv downstairs
They don't say that it's a he
They don't say how his eyes are so swollen he can barely see
They don't mention how he pulls up his sleeves to see a mess of raised scars and scabs and blood droplets oozing pus
They don't say how he cries, snot running, crumbling into himself
They don't say how he takes a thumbtack
And slashes his barely-together skin
And how it stings as he washes it under the tap
And walks downstairs to dinner, again.
YOU ARE READING
tell me how to be
PoetryNO.1 in #loveisdead **trigger warning** a disjointed poetry volume that spans through the topics of politics, self harm, rape, abuse, eating disorders, feminism so on and so forth.. scroll through the contents and there might be something that you...
