Every breath burns
everything in life is turned
they say I should have never been born
to cut my wrists
but ive got time
my blood's still warm
''My legs are fat, I need to be thin''
says the scars on my skin
''Just one more''
the razor begs
I look around me, a bloody mess
the twisted words, filthy lies
death taunts me, the voices want me to die
the voices hate me, they want me to be dead
no matter how hard I cry, or beg.
i still find myself grabbing a blade
''how will i hide this the next day?''
as the blood trickles down my arm,
i smile, i grin
but wait, im still not thin
so i find myself skipping meals.
I tell you now.
insecurity kills
YOU ARE READING
a cutting poem-insecutity kills
PoetryPlease don't juge me for this. Cutting isnt for attention, and im not trying to get it. This is just some stuff I write through out the day and guys gals people of the world if you need some help im here. I wont juge you. So yea, hope you enjoy
