Virgin_Suicide

My wrists r crying red.
2003-03-17 15:41:24 (UTC)

Survival Skill (poem)


Pain you just can’t imagine
A life that you can’t escape
Each day giving more hurdles
You’re finding harder to take

You know you can’t stay this way
Losing grip of what seems real
So reaching for something sharp
Is the only way to feel?

You see it lie in your hand
A powerful tool you hold
You know its whole existence
It looks shiny - it feels cold

In return for that it brings
Your arms, your legs, you give
It’s the least that you can do
As it gives you strength to live

Each and every mark you make
Hurts like a fast, lashing whip
But deeper you continue
Carving a more painful rip

You wait for that special change
As your blood sets to release
It happens, you feel better
It brings a moment of peace

So out comes all the redness
Your cut has started to bleed
A small present for the tool
On your pain, it starts to feed

You know you’ve been caught out
You’re now its pathetic slave
Everything you are, it owns
You keep giving, ‘till your grave.




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