Trigger warning:
Self-harm
There are no saturated flowers here
No sight of rainbows for sore eyes
No coloured skies
Paper cuts don’t hurt anymore
And blades aren’t scary
Perhaps I’m too familiar with the lines it makes
Red then black
Carving my very existence into my skin
Swiftly
Painful but its elating to me
The back of my arms look like I just met a cat
A startled one of course
It’s my fault though
I tried to hold it
There are no demons in my mind
It’s not loud anymore
Haply its cooled down
Now that I've given myself up
I wish there were demons though
At least I could tell you what’s wrong
‘It’s flooding here
I see fleeting moments
Laminated carefully between two pieces of plastic’ she used to say
‘Pictures are quite delicate’ for her pictures were something to hold on to
‘Protect them’
This was years ago
When we were a little too naive
When we cared
Its hard feeling these days
To know what’s going on
You could call her an anchor
She was my anchor
But I’m fine now
Or at least I’d like to think this way
I just wish I told her
That she would be fine
I just wish that someone told her
That she would be fine
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