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one more cut
 
one more cut I carry today
one more wound in this graveyard of shame
i savour the hurt and tally the pain
as I watch the blood seep from my veins
one more nail in this coffin of mine
that youíve so lovingly crafted to ensure my decline
still, as much as it hurts I was ready this time
because I knew it was coming
it was always going to happen this way
it was always going to be you
it always is
and maybe Iím just drunk on the darkness I feel
but why stop now when the end is so near?
thereís just one last thing for you to take from me
one last act and then youíll be free
to move on to the future in the land of the living
free from the inconvenience that is me
iíll even give you the knife, Iíve sharpened it too
just plunge it straight in, I believe in you
just one last act and then Iíll be free
to haunt your nightmares for eternity
letís get it over with

[This poem is not about physical self-harm, although it easily could be. it's about how indulging in emotional self-harm as a response to the wounds (or 'cuts') inflicted on us by others can be just as real, just as dangerous... and just as seductive. Thanks to all for the kind messages of concern - they are no less appreciated for the fact that the cuts are on the inside]

By lemert

© 2019 lemert (All rights reserved)

 

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