"Get it out,"
out, between thinning lips and porcelain:
little glass lives on display
we hawk the pretty ones for change
and, knowing better,
pay a glamorous death to love us.
I have an addiction.
It is called Self-Harm.
Self-harmers enjoy cutting, burning, and mutilating themselves. The term is widely misunderstood.
We dont do it for the attention, we don't do it because we want to die.
We do it for the high. For the rush and the initial "Woah" of the first cut or burn.
We do it because it makes us feel better. Scientifically, the release of blood pumps adrenaline and endorphins through us. Which makes us happy.
But for me, drawing a razor across my skin and seeing the blood flow, is an ecstacy. I love it, and I hate it. So much.
At the same time.
Seeing myself bleed is a way for my emotions to be let out.
the cat poised ready to attack
every hairs on its body tense up
growling like the lion
scrunched up, claws out
hissing like it the end
the cat is about to attack
but what is it attacking
her hands as soft as can be
her eyes the bluest of blue
her hair free flowing through the wind
her style only comes in western
her music is just the country blues
her face face comes with a smile
shes just the right amount for a country girl
Addicted, it never ends cut after cut after. yet when it ends i feel so so so guilty like its illelegeal but the numbness must end sometimes. i don't do it for the attention thats were your wrong. i do it end the suffering and pain.........
from the a harmer