Morbid Artist

Copyright, Asphyxia

Sitting in her room,
a razor in her hand,
her eyes filled with tears,
and screaming in her brain.

She wonders where the razor will lead,
What picture it will choose,
and how deep it will sink.

She waits for answers…
Slowly lifting her pant legs and shirt sleeves.

Her tears are more intense,
Anxiety drops upon her.
She takes her first shallow line of skin,
Moving gently over it—
Not knowing what to carve.
Phrases pop into her head, she repeats them.
Forming the lines upon her leg, connecting them and making letters.
Her body is the canvas and her razor is the paint.
Her wounds open,
and she screams for help.
Her pain is unbearable.
She’s so beautiful.
She rests her blade and looks at her legs.
Swollen are the words,
but satisfied she is.
For she holds so much beauty; this dark artist


Copyright, Asphyxia

She sits in the corner,
Cuts and scars down her arms and legs.
She wears them proudly.
She has bangs that get in her way,
and eyes that glare at you from a distance.
Her teeth aren’t that straight, nor are they perfectly white.
She’s not model thin,
and she has small hands.
Above her belly button there’s a purple mark.
And below are her toes which she thinks are cute.
Everyone thinks she’s gorgeous,
And everyone thinks she’s thin,
but deep down…
She feels she’s ugly,
and over-weight.
She has low self-esteem,
and no confidence.
No one knows what she truly thinks.
No one knows what she truly feels.
She’s embarrassed of her own opinion,
and thinks about ‘what if’s…’ of past situations.
She’s afraid of you knowing her,
and growing to love her.
Her parents aren’t together,
and that effects her deeply,
She feels alone in the world.
And has no romantic sense of adventure.
Her boyfriend cares for her,
yet she doesn’t trust him.
She’s merely afraid of his actions and decisions.
She’s overly accepting,
But somethings don’t pass her.
She has a passion to write poetry, and to cuddle under blankets with the one she cares for.
But in this world,
She never knows what to think,
What to say,
Or how to act.
She doesn’t know she’s beautiful, because inside she knows what beauty she wants and how she wants to be.
But doesn’t realize, she already holds some beauty of her own.


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