sad boi hours

**part 2: to make pain real

~trigger warning: this poem contains graphic descriptions of s3lf-h@rm, s3lf-injury, etc. please skip if you cannot handle this being described. disclaimer: i do not promote or condone any sort of s3lf-h@rm or destructive habits. my mental health has made things a lot more difficult for me and i wouldn't recommend any of these negative copings skills to anyone. if you are struggling, please stay strong and stay safe. message me if you need anything. <3 thank you!~

i wanted to make the pain you gave me real.

i couldn't handle all of this emotional agony.

i needed a way out.

i searched for answers in my blood...

the water is cold and threaded with january frost. my tears are warm, hot against my cheeks.

the blade is cold and clead, exquisite lines form sharpened points. as they drag across my skin and open up hard lines in my soft arms, i feel the emotional pain leave me. i feel your shrapnel dive into my heart and instant scar tissue forming over it. 

my arms cry hot red tears that flow down my arms and into the frigid water. the cold water turns the dark red blood pink. 

a drop of blood lands on the sparse stepping stones. a few heartbeats later, a tear falls next to it, having had farther to travel. i use my bare toe to join the two together. they absorb, embrace and become each other while i softly cry.

the sun is setting now and i can see its rays wave at me through the branches of the naked trees.

i sink down and sit on the cold stone that is thinly covered by the cold water. i am so cold. i take the cold blade and tear more hot, hard lines. i try to make sense of it all as i cry.

my eyes are crying, tears are falling down my face. 

my arms are crying so much more, with dark red tears that demand attention.

i take solace in knowing that the pain will end forever soon.

i rest my face on the cold stone and close my eyes to this cold life.