TW: death, self harm, self hatred
I raise the gun to my eye,
my target crying in the corner.
I am heartless, she is emotions,
and she has to go.
She worms her way into my head,
changes my decisions,
flips me upside down and back again.
She tears at my logic,
making me do things,
I would never do.
I hit the trigger,
and blood splatters across the floor.
But when I lower the weapon from my eye,
it is not her that is dead,
but it is me.
YOU ARE READING
Borderline Spiraling
PoetryCollection of poems written from a place of confusion from a child who feels different, unable to participate in life because of the darkness in their mind and in their body. Trigger warning - may contain themes of self harm, verbal abuse/toxic rela...
