She Is Dead To Me

Sun, 08/30/2015 - 12:13 -- hnjmkl

I count each slit on my wrist.

Each cut reminds me of a painful memory.

Water wells up in my eyes, as I cut my skin.

This is nothing new to me.

I’ve done this many times before.

I watch the blood rush down my arm, as the cut inspires with pain.

I walk over the bathtub and run some water.

I got the water where I wanted to be, so I cut the facet off.

 I stripped out of my clothes and sat in the water.

All I could do was think.

My existence on this earth means nothing.

 I wanted to end my suffering.

 I slide my body further in to water, until it reaches my neck.

I felt the water burn the insides of my throat.

Everything around me is suddenly blurry once I submerge my body into the water.

I couldn’t save myself now.

My soul was already dead.

I was just waiting for my body to catch up.

I was in my own oblivion.

 I couldn’t escape my mind.

Monsters didn’t sleep under my bed; they just slept in my head.

My heart disappears from my insides.

As if I’m nothing.

My body is slowly losing oxygen.

 I fall breathlessly, gasping for air.

 Flat on my back.

Numbness fell all over my body.

My soul appeared to be departing from my body as I look down.

 My body is lifeless.

Dead.

Death crept its way upon my beautiful body as it was laid to rest.

 

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 
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