Warning…

WARNING…this post contains something very real and very painful to many people who suffer in silence…please in no way am I mocking the seriousness of self-harm(of cutting) I have been in this position…not so deep I didn’t find my own way out.. for many they can’t find their way out…but I have an understanding on some level of why I once held a razor… I now hold a pen and it is not always sunshine and flowers…it is bloody and numbing and in some sense addicting to let it waterfall l…flow out…I have hidden places still and yet I also have inner beauty and sun that shines so bright on those dark places…the moon pulls the tides though and it’s reflection  is a reminder that sun still exists and for that very reason I embrace the dark side of it… Of me…I am not flawless but I don’t need to be to understand what love is…and it is why I grab my pen…I love myself…why I am still here & remain standing!

I am a cutter

a self-harmer

I take the blade

and cut thin red lines

on pale skin…

except my once sharp razor

is now my pen

everyday I open the

scar tissue of my heart

and bleed words…

a cutter understands

the allure

the dark beauty

romances the depravity…

I’ve held my wrist out

opened my thighs

so they can carve

yes please

bleed my pain

bleed the ugliness thru slits

so I can feel something

more than something numb…

sometimes I cut deep

to the dark marrow

of the bone

hoping to feel

something other than I do…

Perhaps I am the very definition

of suffering

with a built in mindset to do

self-harm…

except sometimes it’s not

my own razor…my own hand

rather it’s pens and words

of others and the brutality of stern

tongues…

their sharpness

Their carelessness cuts too…

I confess my pain

it’s not hidden

anymore…

it lays here

for a viewing

and I have moments

I rather hide it in shame…

as if revealing it

is weak & sickening

and this ugly dirty thing…

but since I have this proclivity

to self harm

I expose almost every shred

of my heart…wear it outside my

chest like a necklace of decorated

blood beads…worn out rosary…

perhaps I’m like some kind

freak in a cage

slightly off to the side of the stage

to continue the banality of self-harm

by locking myself in to be judged…

judged by the more aware

the more insensitive…

maybe to most I am not

beauty contained

nor diamond shiney…

nor know the multi facets

of love…

yet life strives for balance

yin & yang

light & dark

near & far

perhaps I understand the potency

of love

because I understand the devastion

of hate…

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2 thoughts on “Warning…

    1. E …It is a very heavy…very dark…very serious…subject and something someone wrote spurred me… about love that’s not being written but rather suffering… And it made me examine what I was writing and all I could I liken it to was “cutting” something as a teen I had experience with…its goes much deeper a longer story but I tried in this posting to explain it the love of writing and the pain of hate…and how it can be numbing not necessarily for a lack of feeling but from feeling to much of something…I Tried to not be disrespectful of those that suffer from a This serious disorder… I was fortunate to walk out of it with very little harm but it resonates… That numbing high… So my sweet kind friend… No words necessary … I’m am glad you are with me here… Your support is welcomed and your friendship heartwarming. TY xo ❤️M

      Liked by 1 person

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