I sit here
at the blade i stare.
should i do it?
what would you care.
you said your peace
and now its my turn
the worthless self-harm
i never do learn.
failed to articulate.
words blocked by tears.
this has been going on
for to many years.
you never see it.
red lines on my arm.
it starts with your words
and ends as "self"-harm
Twisted sensation
no one would guess
that pain equals pleasure.
my brain is a mess.
with thoughts of your anger
our horrible fights
the endless tears
and sleepless nights.
i know i have failed
and i dream of my death.
then i pick up the blade
and soon exhale my last breath.
