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the emos

the emos

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Apr 27, 2015
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Fiction
Romance
Im sitting in the bathroom think about my life and how much i hate it. i feel the familiar tingle in my arm meaning im going to do it again. i press the cold metal to my arm and begin to draw. i draw about love, hate, depression, and sadness. when i look at my arm i see beads of blood forming.
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#122
nevergivingup
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Cuts.

i drew a butterfly on my wrist, in hopes that this feeling would no longer persist, but things got bad and i started to cry, so the butterfly on my wrist had to die. once again i tried to set myself free, but it seems my thoughts have stolen the key, so this butterfly lived a short life, killed with fear, and a very sharp knife. -b.g [lower case intended.]

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