I am holding the silver razor in my hand,
my vision becomes blurry.
All I can hear is the voices,
the voices telling me that I deserve it.
I deserve to punish my body for the pain of my mind.
They tell me that I should do it.
Do it!
press harder,
so that maybe I'll become numb.
They do not care if I have been clean for so long,
but then again nobody does.
So why not?
Why not fall back into the same whole,
I have been in for eight years.
What a fucked up game,
cutting my skin to distract from the pain of the mind.
I am arguing with the voices,
begging them to leave me alone.
I do not want to play this game anymore,
but I am unsure of what else to do.
When all I can see is the razor,
all I can hear is the voices,
and all I can feel is the weight of the world on my shoulders.
YOU ARE READING
It's not all black and white
PoetryA personal collection of all my poems. >TW< This is my first book so if you enjoyed reading my poems feel free to vote and leave a comment. ❤️ Lots of love
