I suppose I just had to write it down.
...and my 34th scar deepened...
Razor-blades, scissors, broken bottles, rusted nails and safety pins,
A sharpened shrine of open veins, wrist sparkles with embedded things.
Head back, burning scalp, blood and hot-water, a stained shower-stall.
Up along my side, wire-thin tiger-stripes that will never see stitches,
Poke my eyes out, fake nails, artificial pain.
You need me but you push me away, too weird, ugly,
I might contaminate you.
Freakshow, I write failure, ugly, across my arms.
A dedication to you, my 'love.'
This hatred manifests below the surface,
A tumour festering behind manic laughter
And dried-out eyes. No more tears, I don't know how anymore.
So kill me a little more, destroy me like you did before,
Pills, discolouring in the jar, did they really think I'd take them?
Anti-depressants, I'm not anti-depression,
Please make me feel again.
I'm dying again.