❝Énouement❞ Poetry [➖️]

one hundred seven ❝ too late ❞

trigger warning: panic attack, self-harm (descriptive!!)

❝ too late ❞

It's too late for me.
If only I had gotten
help sooner, if I had
allowed myself to
seek help.

Now, I claim to be
okay- to be officially
happy, but am I really?

Every once and a while,
one could find me
conpletely numb and
done with life- much
like today.

These days, my heart
and chest aches as the
throbbing pain in my
head only increases.

Hot tears brim my
eyes as my hands
harshly tug at my
brunette locks-
my breathing is
ragged and heavy.

My eyes sting as
more and more
tears trickle down
my cheeks, reaching
my chin before
slipping off.

The wet, now cold
tears drip onto
my arms.

Goosebumps arise,
scattering across
my numbing body.

Pain, numbness-
that's all I feel.

Memories of the
past fill my tainted
mind, scraping
into the walls it-
it hurts. It hurts
so fucking much.

My breathing halts
as broken, silent
sobs escape my lips.

I'm a mess, a fucking
mess.

The sound of the shower
water harshly splattering
against the porcelain tub
is the only thing that could
be heard. No one knows
that I'm in so much pain.

I'm sobbing and sobbing-
tugging and grabbing
the loose skin on my
body. My hands shake-
my whole body trembles.

I hate myself-
I always had.

My head hurts-
it's as if it's pounding.

Everything feels heavy-
I feel numb and cold.

My nails scrap against
my skin- carving deeply
into my tainted canvas.

Angry streaks of fading
red paint my skin.

My fists collide with
my flesh- I hate it. I
hate it so much.

The aching pain-
I've missed it, yet
I've dreaded it so
much.

Slowly, discoloration
seeps into my flesh.
Splashes of violet,
crimson, and verdant
taint my skin- the
bruises have formed.

I ache- everything aches.

But I love it.

I love the way it
makes me feel-
and I hate that.

-