Five.
Five spots where my blood
Can drop away from by body,
And form a puddle on my shirt.
Five places where that knife,
That bloody serrated knife,
Broke through my skin.
I'm tired of this war,
The lies that people always tell me,
"Its gets better"
"You have so much to live for"
What benefits do I have in your life?
Now you get to constantly worry,
Worry about if I'm okay,
If I'm bleeding out,
If I'm safe.
Sometimes,
It's better
To let go.
To let go of the memories,
The words,
The little things that remind you.
YOU ARE READING
Purify me
PoetryThis will be about how I deal with my depression and will mention self harm & suicide
