warning : suicidal thoughts, self-harm. this is triggering for some.
everyday, it feels like i'm suffocating
in the same air we breath in.
your very presence makes my skin crawl
and makes me wanna hide myself in my shawl.
everything about you is detestable.
and i don't wanna admit
but i wanna watch you get lit
by the fire of fury you placed in my veins.
when all i wanted was peace
you, at a wrong timing, gave me the opposite of bliss-
and in my mind there came a swirling mess.
oh god, now i just wanna hang with the trees.
people would come by, welcomed by a stench
as they watch the autumn leaves sway to the rhythm of the wind
as my hair covers my face-
my dead body in no one's embrace.
what a wonderful sight that is for me-
because that's where i'd rather be
than to stay at the place they call home
and endure your unbearable existence.
my home is nothing but my shelter
where i can do anything i want and feel at ease-
but you, as if an intruder,
invaded my private place.
when you shattered everything in the household
you did not realize that you also broke something in me.
and it unleashed my darkest thoughts-
a part of my soul coaled.
my ideals are being invaded by unholy thoughts
which include strangling you until you cry out for help for doing this to me.
but i well know that it's immoral to hurt somebody
so i'll just hurt my other enemy-
which is none other than me.
i am wishing that after i hurt myself, i would immediately perish.
oh, would you look at that?
the color of my blood trickling down my arms matches my red nail polish!
and i could use it as a substitute instead of my cherry red lipstick.
how delightful it is to take out all my fury for you
by hurting my own being.
and then my world sees only black and white, no other hue,
as i admire my bloody artwork while grinning.
oh, but how i wish someone would offer me a shoulder to cry on-
because i don't think i can still hold on.
sooner or later, i might turn my dreadful fantasy
into a reality.
is a part of me still alright?
can someone save me from this misery?
i don't know what to do.
so please, help me.
YOU ARE READING
𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 , poetry
Poetry𝗣𝗢𝗘𝗧𝗥𝗬 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗔 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗕𝗜𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗖𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗘, 𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗙𝗘𝗖𝗧 𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗬. ━━ To write is to pour one's soul into paper by means of ink. Or in modern cases, by means of a keyboard. Nonetheless, it is through writi...
