Cutting blood stories

mipoet Insomniac
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
I like to cut myself. It’s f****d up, I know, but I get a perverse pleasure from it.


I like to cut myself.

It’s fucked up, I know,

but I get a perverse pleasure from it.

It started with emotional pain.

A fire threatened my town.

My house.

My life.

A promotion denied,

whilst I sat in a camp,

full of evacuees.

The knife found me.

It wasn’t the first time,

but it was the most vicious.

How it carried on.

I can barely remember.

When I cut, I also forget.

Forget the pain.

Forget suffering.

I like watching the blood come out of me.

Red and fresh.

The feel as it runs down my leg.

The stinging sensation afterwards.

Does this make me psychotic?

I take anti psychotics.

But I am not delusional.

Just in pain.

A strange emotional mess.

Where I cannot cry,

but I happily bleed.

This is however, no solution.

So I must not do it.

Yet I desire it so intensely.

What am I to do?

My natural state is agony.

I must find a way to alter it.



And lots.

Of therapy.

Enough to stop cutting.

For the most part.

The occasional slip.

Once I was caught.

It made a right mess.

But still, I crave it.

I pray to God and ask, what am I to do,

with this demon that I love?

He remains silent.

I must find peace.

Peace with myself.

Peace with the world.

I intend to find a way,

to resist this beast.

Even if I have to,

over and over again.

So help me,

I will.

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