“Sell those drugs for a little cash, love.
Stack it in a pile, so you can buy shiny blades and ropes that your perfectly manicured fingers will tie into nooses;
Little girl, your mother always said you were too bony.
You’ll keep them on your nightstand, waiting for a time when your pain replaces your fears, and demons whisper every step into your ears until you master the way to pull your sleeves down whenever someone walks by, and memorize the words “I’m fine” with a smile that could light up the sky.
And for a week no one saw the pretty girl with diamonds for eyes. She was trapped between concrete walls and monitors;
Because she’d rather watch her own body wilt and crumble in front of her and see her ribs tighten so hard around her lungs that she struggles for every gasping breath and ends up with tubes filtering her blood
But what she really needed was a machine that would filter her mind and exorcise the demons that reside in the crevices of her chest and darling,
These tubes won’t heal the scars that hide behind your eyes.”
— Confession: “cutting, suicide attempts, selling prescription drugs, and bulimia/anorexia.” by m.a.k (Tumblr)
YOU ARE READING
There Is A Hell.
Poetry(No, this has nothing to do with Bring Me The Horizon) This is not a story. This is a collection of poems and thoughts (some by me, and some gathered by various sources) about depression, sadness, etc. Warning: contains mentions of self-harm, sui...
