Stranded between relapse and recovery,
I have the knives and blades in front of me.
Instinct takes over and I reach for the scissors,
Tears are now flowing freely like rivers.
I turn off the lights and shut my eyes;
Part of me dies
As I dig the sharp blade into my thighs
And I sigh.
Relief washes over me, I fall hard against the door
I slash at my legs and my arms once more
The pamphlets and booklets that littered my floor
Are gone,
Along with my recovery hopes
That I would wean myself off this violent approach,
To kill off the voices inside my head,
But the road to recovery leaves me dead.
YOU ARE READING
Scarlet Tears: A collection of poems, stories and quotes about self harm
PoetryA book of poetry aimed at people who have or are struggling with the addiction of self injury. These are poems highlighting the growing problems of self harm. It isn't judging, though, and doesn't insist that the person suffering MUST stop or MUST r...
