tracing
across her tired skin,
sinking
into the crevices and wrinkles.
she left
her mark on every inch of imperfection
every
flaw, every fault.
she sliced
and cut until the pain turned numb,
and the
red dripped down
and the
endorphins kicked in.
she
didn't really know why she did it,
but she
didn't know why she wouldn't,
because in
the end,
she'd
just be the scars on her arms
and the
emptiness that never went away.
g.m
DelicateSituation · 1 decade ago
0
reply
Please tell me you haven't been cutting. Please please please.