#poemsaboutselfharm

[theliebester-blog]

4

the first was just to get me started

the second was deeper to make me feel something

the third kept me going it kept me from ripping my hair out

the fourth was to  finish me off to bring closure to all that i just bled

[theliebester-blog]

I think it’s sad That my dreams are better than reality. That Benadryl is my happy pill. That razors seem like my only Savior. That the distance is consistent. That the yelling supposedly is the only way to keep me from rebelling. I want to get away. I want the noises and voices to stop. I want to escape from my own head.

[theliebester-blog]

Yellow?

They say he ate Yellow paint To make himself feel happy.

My yellow paint Is a red pill That makes you sleepy.

My yellow paint Is a razor That only says that it takes pain away.

My yellow paint Is a human being Who actually makes it all disappear.

[theliebester-blog]

A Little Glimpse

“That Benadryl looks pretty nice now, doesn’t it?”

He chooses Benadryl because he knows that I have it. He knows that I like being tired. He knows that I like being distant. He knows that I like being numb.

“Those razors would take all of this away.”

He chooses razors because he knows that I’m willing to try more. He knows that I like the pain. He knows that I like being blank. He knows that I’m fascinated with the blood.

“Go use that pencil like I want you to.”

He chooses a pencil because he knows that I’ve used that before. He knows that I’m not ready for razors. He knows that I thinks it’s safer. He knows that I think it’s easier.

He’s barely convinced me.