words going nowhere.

eleven letters

— — — — — — — — — — —

blood.
it seeps through my fingers as it mixes with my tears.
it's hers.
you know her quite well, but can you recognize it's her blood caught underneath my fingernails?

you see me plotting revenge,
yet you don't realize it's revenge against her.
she's ruined me.
i'll never be the same and for that she pays.
each drop of blood she bleeds pays a debt she owes me.

i won't kill her.
no, i can't do that to you.
you can have her alive but you might not have me.
you see, her and i are the same.
i look in the mirror and i see her.
so i cut her skin, and watch it bleed in my reflection.
i feel each wound i give her in my own skin,
and i pray she feels them too.

[this is not a poem, just a collection of words written in a specific order to convey my thoughts. in less than a month will be the three year anniversary of me quitting self harm. i wrote this when i was wanting to relapse. explaining the wording and story behind it might take hours, so please refrain from asking questions. please don't cut yourself, it isn't worth it. talking from experience, reaching one year clean feels so much better than any pain you can inflict on yourself.]