I never seem to be calm
Unless I'm wounding my own skin
I'm finally at peace
Although it is not a peaceful thing
When the blade and my skin collide
The feeling is like no other
And the blood that drips from my punctured skin
Gives me the kind of relief nothing else does
People expect me to be crying
But I have a smile on my face instead
For I know I shouldn't last much longer
And I can't wait to finally end up dead
YOU ARE READING
Feelings
PoetrySome poetry about my depression, self harm, being suicidal, and social anxiety that I've written. *TRIGGER WARNING* This book of my poetry is not to support or glorify self harm, suicide, or mental illnesses such as depression and social anxiety in...
