:𝓢𝓾𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷: 𝚆𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝙿𝚘𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚢

ᎾᏁᎬ ᎿᎾᎾ ᎷᎯᏁᎽ

Warning before this poem starts. This includes self harm.

~

Everytime something happens a new cut appears. It's never just one. Arms covered, legs covered, ribs, thighs, and wrists. She can't stop at just one, it feels impossible. 1 cut, 2 cut, 3 cut, 4. 5 cut, 6 cut, 7 cut, more. It's never just one, it's never just five; to her it's not possible, may she just curl up and die.

She gives and she gives, gives everything she has; just leave her alone, she can't anymore. She used to be happy, she used to feel smart, she used to want everything-but now she wants none. She gave all she had, to them and to more but now she doesn't want to, and that makes you mad? Why can't she cry, why can't she live, why can't she just love whom she loves without being attacked.

Everything hurts, everything stings, everything gets worse and worse as it goes on. She's tired and she's hurt, she doesn't want to keep going; she just wants this to be her last.

Why can't things just get better? Why can't things get worse? Why can't things just be normal?

Blood drips. It drips and it drips. A never ending cycle. She heals, she bleeds, and she cries. It never stops. Over and over and over again. She wishes it would, but she can't. She wishes it would, but without it she's nothing.

One too many.