No one seemed to notice the lines,
The lines that appeared on my wrists,
My thighs.
The way I cut my skin open,
Like I cut calories.
The way the lines went vertical,
And not diagonal.
They didn't even notice,
The diagonal ones.
No one seems to notice,
How deep into my struggle,
I really am.
I like it that way,
No sense of responsibility needed,
If I go to far.
No one to check me,
If I go too deep.
If I cut too many lines,
If I cut out me.
No one would notice.
Sadly that's just the way,
Things just have to be.
YOU ARE READING
Dim.
诗歌Tired of trying to be everything. Trying to be perfect. Wrong paths and wrong people and missed opportunities. Am I letting my mental illness take over my life? A look into the mind of a BPD, Anxiety ridden woman. With no identity but her Panic. W...
