Fallen Angel

If you wish to see more of my writings then feel free to visit where you will find entries about my life, anorexia and depression alongside SI.

The Blade

Copyright Fallen Angel

Together with the blade
and my blood stained tears
I knowingly punish those
who hurt me.

Sitting in candle light
pretending threes no pain.
But what do I gain?

No one will awake
with my silent screams.
I watch the blood
run from a vein.

Tomorrow I will wake
but I’m only a fake.
I’ll wear a smile
though only for a while.
I need to compile the
thoughts in my head
though al I see is red.

My body is drained.
I have nothing aside
from these blood stained tears.
I hide my fears, the blame
and hatred for this game.

I have no pride
I want to ride
please let my body
commit suicide.

The temptation is unbelievable.
No preparation to die.
Sit and hide unto you I confide.

“I’m off to die, yet I won’t cry.”


Copyright Fallen Angel

It like fire to the human eye.
No one can see me screaming
but obviously still see me bleeding.
The blade loves me
Do you?

The razor blade in bodily form
its as real as the midnight storm.
Blood trailing down.
Its al around.
I relax and then relapse.
I’m unstable yet able.

Dried on blood.
I’m looking at the pain.
I can’t stop
I’m addicted to the blame.
there’s nothing you can do
I’m just to dependent on this game.

The blades cold
yet my wrists burn.
I sit on my own,
turn my back to this world.
I’ve paid my debt.

Regaining consciousness
I realize something not right.
I can see the morning light.
Have I been out all night?

I have to get to the bathroom,
need to beat the rush,
have to wash the blood
though my sight is blurred
and all I can see is red.
I want to go back to bed
like I did before I bled.

Cold Nights

Copyright Fallen Angel

She closes her eyes and her mind drifts away,
As she pulls the covers to her chin,
Feeling ashamed and all alone,
She gazes into the darkness of her room
With the curtains pulled tightly shut,
And the room turns black as night
With her head pounding and her wrists aching,
She slowly reaches for the phone,
but hears them whispering. “don’t be a burden, let them sleep.”
“it’s not their problem the demons you keep.”
She wants to cry, but the tears are frozen.
So she sits and tries her hardest, to make sense
Of the chaos buried deep within her mind.
But her eyes get heavy as the pencil slows.
Another feeling buried, another poem unwritten
But maybe they will let her sleep. Maybe the feelings will go away.
For the morning will come and the dreams will be forgotten,
The night of torment and pain is over.
It might be hot in her long sleeves and jeans,
but the night came to an end when she finally gave in.


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