Shades of Yellow
Shades of Yellow self harm stories

poemsalrightt Hey, I write some pretty okay poems.
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
This one is a little dark but worth reading. Also trigger warning; contains mentions of self harm.

Shades of Yellow

Yellow is the bright summer sun shining down on you.

It's the warm, fluttering feeling in your gut when you get your first crush.

Yellow is the sweet, soft buzz of bumble bees flying about.

It's the innocence of a new-born child.

Yellow is like falling in love for the very first time;

light and pure.

It's the small, yet genuine, smile on your face when you receive a compliment.

It's as cool and comforting as the warm summer breeze running it's delicate fingers through your soft hair.

It's the crisp, golden waffles you eat for breakfast every morning.

Yellow is the bright, brick road you were taught to follow.

Yellow is the happiness you feel as a child.

Yellow is the deep, golden sun, setting at the end of a long, tiring day.

Yellow is the soft comforter you pull, taught, up to your chin in bed when the lights go out.

It's the stuffed elephant you clutch in your little hands.

It's the sweet, serine sound of your mother's comforting words, thick and sweet, like honey.

Yellow is the memories of your childhood which you so dearly miss.

Yellow is the laughter of your best friend when you make a stupid joke.

It's the crude remarks from the cruel kids at your school.

Yellow is the bittersweet abrupt turn your life suddenly takes.

Yellow is the sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach when you give a presentation.

It's the sticky sweat clinging to your clenched palms.

It's the tears you fight back when someone laughs at you.

It's the masked smile you give when your "best friend" makes fun of you.

Yellow is the blood-red color you see when you slide your cold,silver paintbrush across your, once soft, delicate skin.

It's the happiness you grasp at as it slowly slips away, with each anxious stroke of your blade.

Yellow is the love you are constantly aching for.

It's the sounds of laughter, once sweet and reassuring, now leaving you breathless and shivering.

Yellow is the sound of your mother's anxious voice, no longer sweet and thick with love, but concerned and laced with worry.

Yellow is the small pill bottle your thin boney fingers grasp.

It's the relaxation and relief settling into you as you slip into oblivion.

Yellow is the bold, cold grip of the abyis as it courts you away into eternal darkness.

Yellow is death.

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