90 Days

10 days:
No blade,
no blood.

20 days:
I'm tired,
I'm sad,
I want my blade.

30 days:
I can't have my blade,
I can't put a sharp object on my skin,
am I finally clean?

40 days:
Am I okay? 
Will I ever cut again?
I think I'm okay...

50 days:
Depression is sinking in,
Anxiety attacks at least 3 times each day.
I want my fucking blade!
Why did I throw it away?

60 days:
Shhh...
it's okay,
you can get through this,
you are STRONG.

70 days:
I may be sad,
I may want to cut,
but I won't.

80 days: 
I'm so close, 
I'm doing so well!

90 days:
Here we are
Today is the 90th day
I am proud, but still broken.
Don't worry,
I'll be fixed one day.

It gets better, 
you just have to wait it out.
I know it'll get worse again,
I'll want my blade again,
but I won't get a new one. 
I'm clean.
I am 90 days clean.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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