Bloody Shadows

Some depressing poems and such, it could cause some triggering.

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6. If You Were A Self-Harmer

You are surrounded by people yet feel so alone,

The air clings to your scarred body,

You push past all those people and breathe deeply,

That lump catches your throat as you walk into the hall,

The hairs on the back of your neck stand as your heart beat slowly gains pace,

Whispers enter your ears and stares burn your back,

You clutch your sleeves as if people could see past them and to your wrists,

Hurtful words is what you pick up,

Holding back all those tears you see the light hit the doors,

Your footsteps pick up and you enter to the light,

The air hits you and you breathe a small sigh of relief,

You walk past those people but keep your head high even though you are shaking inside,

Slowly you walk to the hell you call home,

The thoughts pressing against your mind,

That itch on your arms like a begging to rid of the hurt,

You get to your house door and breathe a deep breathe,

The smell of alcohol fills your nose and the fear coming over you,

Silently you sneak past the figure wasting away on the couch hoping to make no sound,

When you reach the excuse of a room you have you shakily open the door,

Your luck runs out and that horrid creak triggers the bitter numb over your body,

The movement below you beckons you into fear as you stare into the eyes of the devil,

They taunt you with a strange smile before that hand becomes a painful strike,

You scream in pain only to have more screams fill your soul the world becoming to much to handle,

When it is over the figure stumbles back down beneath you your fragile body crawls past the creaky door and into a cold room,

Laying there the cold the numbness leaves and the pain leaves there is only you and tears,

The tears bring heavy eyes and you slowly breathe as the dark engulfs you,

You awake to silence and a small smile forms your emotionless face,

You stand up and reach for that switch it turns on and brings a gloomy light across that cold room,

Walking to where you rest you search under the pillows and pull out your blade,

The itch on your wrists now its own thumping heart beat and the yearning call filling your mind,

Sitting upon the bed you reveal your wrists that are filled with so many scars each having a story of pain and rejection,

Breathing deeply you drag the first line across and watch your pale flesh fill with a crimson that holds secrets,

You continue this over and over and then you stop watching the blood flow upon you,

Sighing as the pain and tension is leaving you with the blood you rest yourself and let your heartbeat sooth those thoughts,

Your eyes draw heavy once more and you welcome the peace and quiet as you go of to the one place the pain cannot catch you,

When you wake the hurt refills and the itch returns,

You rise up and stare out of the window wondering many thoughts then you look to your new scars,

The blood now dried you simply go to the bathroom and wash away the blood as if it never happened,

You dress yourself and cover those scars with long sleeves then breathe as the routine starts again.

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