I sit in the darkness
my blade is my paintbrush
my wrist is my canvas
I wait for the sting to come
and I breathe it in
as blood oozes out
When most would cry
I feel relief
because I finally feel something
other than emptiness
I finally stop thinking about
everything that hurts inside
because it hurts outside
instead
Slice
No one cares
Slice
I am alone
Slice
There's no one to hear my screams but me
YOU ARE READING
From Inside The Cracks
PoetryShe was hurting. Hurting so much she began breaking, cracks forming across her body. She was going to shatter. **Possibly triggering content**
