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Slits

Careful slits,
precise cuts.
Wishes of death,
mirrored on my wrists.
Quiet tears,
no more sounds.
All this pain,
gone like the wind.
Up and down.
Side to side.
Direction has no meaning,
when your slicing blindly.

Author notes

Not my best of this type...it's been awhile since I wrote anything this dark/morbid since I started/quit myself. 2year cutter, sober from it for about 3months Go me!

Gah! It sucks!!

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Comments

  • poet-life
    November 8
    Edit | Reply
    i think its pretty good...i really like it.