A Different Kind Of Art

 

 

Cutting is art.

Sometimes,

you plan out what you want to see

Sometimes,

it come out of nowhere.

The only difference

is that your canvas

is your body

and your brushes

are your blades

knives

lighters

nails.

And the only colour you use

is red,

because you’re painting

with your life

and you have to be careful

not to use too much

even if you want to see

exactly how much red

is in your body

even if you want to see

what you look like

on the inside.

You can sew yourself up

because scars you make

are easier to explain

with “I’m crazy”

rather than

“I was stupid enough to trust”

because everyone lies

and no one cares

unless something drastic happens

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741