7/25/20
One year
I no longer depend on a razor.
I no longer draw blood from my thigh.
I no longer let my depression consume me.
I no longer let my anxiety whisper intrusive thoughts into my ears.
I slip up here and there,
But I no longer resort to that damn razor.
I refuse to.
a.b.
YOU ARE READING
Tarnished Beauty
PoetryYou and I, we have different stories and that's what makes us all individually unique. This is just a continuation of mine- where I try and fix myself, relapsing along the way. I hope this gives you hope or whatever you need to survive.
