Bodily Harm

Copyright, LeiLani

Always on my knees every night,
praying and crying as the depression I fight.

All alone upset, searching for a weapon on my list,
an object sharp and small I can use to cut along my wrist.

Rummaging throughout the entire house frantically,
while on this mission, I’m thinking of my life of how it’s so sh*tty.

Mom hid everything sharp, now what am I to use?
I open the shower and spot the razor she forgot to remove.

I pick it up from its place near the soap,
as I continue to stare at it, I fear it’s my only hope.

I then slowly start to take it apart,
as the beats become faster from my little broken heart.

I’m not doing this because I want to die,
I look down again and a tear spills out of my eye.

To abuse my flesh is what’s on my brain,
it’s okay, everyone already thinks I’m insane.

Even to myself, I guess I’m a little misunderstood,
just knowing by doing this would feel so good.

I do it. I slash at least eleven times.
the mess thetas made looks like the scene of a crime.

I drop my secret weapon, then I squeeze my arm,
how can I receive so much pleasure by committing bodily harm?


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