Well found this in my phone and it was dated: March 31, 2013. Though its all true. The poem speaks the truth. Though sadly I still struggle with it. But here is the poem that I poured my heart out to. All I crave is to feel the coolness off the steel razor blade as it is cutting my flesh and warmth of reddest blood flowing across the top of my skin and tinkles down my fingers tills it make soft patter sound as the blood drops hit the sink. Then hearing the sigh of pure pleasure as I let go of the blade and let it fall in the sink that is splatter with the blood that shoot out as I made the cuts. Finally I hear the muffled clatter of the razor hitting the sink. Then my eyes start to grow wide as I feel that best feeling ever. I now I breathe slowly just so I can hang onto this feeling as long as I can because I know I have reached my high point where I feel nothing but the blood pouring out of my arm. No pain. For a few wonderful brief seconds I feel like I dont have the whole world coming down on me. Though sadly the feeling ends and I am force to slice my wrist yet again just to have that pleasurable feeling yet again. For the blade is the one who truly controls this. In the end the blade leads to my destruction and to my untimely death. Friends mourn at the gravesite, but though in the background another one has discovered the pleasures of the blade but though very soon will they learn of the true cost of such a few seconds of pleasure. For couple years later, they lay another victim from the pleasure of the blade to rest. Though the cycle of pleasure of the blade keeps going on. You have a choice to give in or fight it. The choice is yours.
Posted on: Sat, 15 Mar 2014 04:41:33 +0000
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