i wonder why nobody else sees the red ringing my wrists like empty bells


dig the knife into your skin 
and it will never be hard again 

pain becomes a control method 
tell yourself it's better than the gaping open-yawn of her ribcage 
bones straining against skin 

and the next time you bruise, 
soft flesh like ripe fruit
poke and prod at the discolored plum-shaped spot 
until it aches even more

and slam your elbow against the doorframe 
and when your arm catches on that exposed edge and bleeds 

you do not stop it

you are nothing if you don't punish yourself for all of the mistakes you make 
spoke too soon spoke too little 
didn't smile enough wasn't energetic enough 

didn't even try 

put yourself in the ground 
you know you will eventually 
it's just one little step 

and it doesn't stop 

and i don't even know what the f-ck is wrong with me 
what did i do wrong? 

please just tell me 
i don't know what to do. 

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed