May 27, 1997
The pink lines
They still mark my arms
Age has not yet come over them
Fresh lines without blood
Knife was the culprit
Deeper, deeper nothing ever goes
Edges falter at the surface
Never slice through
Not as far as I would like them to go
Trembling, crying
Tears my only friend
Pain never comes when I invite it
It hesitates at the door
Never quite accepting my tearful invitation
Blood is acting in the same manner
It will not come when I open the doors ever so slightly
It only trickles through - barely
I want the two
They will not come
They are being timid
Come, come to me
My arms are open gladly
They are awaiting you
They crave to be in your presence
You are their only hope - my only hope - of survival
Marks - more must be made
In this hateful attempt to feel what the rest of the world does
I want to be like everyone else
I want to be like you
So perfect, so beautiful in your ways.
I need you, my arms, they need you dearly also
Come to me once again
Let me hear your voice
I need to be with you
I want to
Dizziness overpowers me
I like the feel
Everything is numb
I feel beautiful
It disappears
My heart, my spirit
Gone.
gone forever
Out of my reach
Nothing matters anymore
I’m gone
Floating on my imaginary breeze
Peace has ceased
Love has died
Life never was
The butterflies captured in their cocoons
Suffocated by their Life support
I am that butterfly
Motionless on the ground.
Reason for writing:
None given
Birth sign: Not entered
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