Copyright Rhiannon

You tell me I cut to die,
but I tell you I cut to live.
To know that in some way
I can still feel.
Being numb for so long
and knowing in some sick twisted way
that I still have emotions.
Even if it’s only pain and anger
and sadness… and hurt.

The crimson river flowing
and all my problems flowing
away with it.

I knew you would never understand.
I couldn’t make you.
Cutting to live, to feel,
not to die.

I couldn’t stop myself.
It was like a fine wine,
like an addiction
I couldn’t beat.
Nothing helped,
nothing stopped the pain,
except the red tide.

Like a silver snake
kissing the skin.
Skin gently parting beneath
cold metal.

Not cutting to die,
but cutting to live.


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