I leaned back against the
walk,
the numb feeling
control.
The wounds
taking their toll.
The pain masks
my emotional state.
Drowning in sorrow
is my only fate.
So I slide the blade
over my fragile
skin.
Leaving wounds
both large &
thin.
The blood trickles,
down my arm.
My only escape
is self-harm.
I've tried
talking,
I've tried meds.
The doctors say
it's all in my
head.
But I can't
escape,
even if that is the
case.
My fears are no
longer
something I can
face.
So yet again,
here I sit,
sliding this blade
over my wrist.
My other hand
clenched in a fist
as I swerve the
blade
into a twist.
Carving out
the word peace.
As my emotional pain
begins to release.
My small smile
holds up a lie.
As I absorb
my own personal high.
-Tiff♥
