Until the Flesh Tears
Until the Flesh Tears poem stories

mipoet Insomniac
Autoplay OFF   •   2 months ago
Trigger warning. Detailed self harm and suicidal ideation.

Until the Flesh Tears

I want a serrated blade.

I will start slowly at first.

Sawing gently.

Legs, feet, ankles.

This is where I mark myself.

Where I mutilate my flesh.

I saw harder.

The cut gets deeper.

Until the flesh tears.

Leaving a scar which will not heal.

The blood pours across the floor.

The rush to my brain.

It blocks the emotions.

The awful emotions.

I'd rather have the pain.

I clean the mess,

cover the wounds,

and go about my day.

I don't know why I do this,

but I no longer care.

I've tried to do right.

To be a good person.

But it does not matter.

I am a destined failure.

A waste of potential.

A cosmic joke.

So be it. I surrender.

Let the world hit me again.

And again. And again.

My freedom lies in blood.

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