—TW— ; self harm ; —TW—
i feel so alone, my true emotions are never shown.
i know people love me, maybe even care.
but then i think that it's a lie, because the truth they wouldn't dare.
as i sit in my room at night, i can feel the pain, forever flowing through my damaged brain.
my thighs are the violin, it needs to be played, almost every night i do it with my blade.
i sit there and cry, never knowing why.
i repeat the same two words, again and again,
'im sorry' , forever asking when;
when will it be over, i'm not in a haste
at this point i just want my own space.
