I knew the familiar feeling of cold, rusty metal onto my slightly feverish skin. I knew it all too well. How slow but painfully deliberate I would move my hand, pressing down as I go. Overwhelmed by the feeling of physical pain, I'd slowly forget -though only for a moment, the torment of my own destructive thoughts as the flaming, pool of scarlet drip down the floor. And I'd regret all over again.
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Word Vomit
Randoma collection/compilation of short stories, rants, prose, and poetry. Disclaimer! All the pictures r not mine but from Pinterest so ctto.
