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Personal Note:

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Poem

want to feel the sharpness,
The stinging against my skin,
And watch as the blood pours from my flesh,

How long has been since I traveled this path,
Since I sat down while walking and nurtured my unseen wounds -
With the pain of a thousand shiny blades 

The thought of it is almost sweet,
Bitter -sweet and so appealing
In my minds eye I see the redness,
The network off welts that each day will tell a different story,
A story of pain and failure,
Off misfortune
And always…
Always the loathing…

How I loathe,
This body,
This skin,
This tiresome form off mine,
I cannot look at myself anymore,
Vileness,
And disappointment,
And no love,
Never love
How can love exist in a place off loathing?

It cannot…
Instead it destroys,


It hurts itself,
Takes itself apart
And watches from a distance and laughs,
Bleeds through the turmoil,
Cries through the permanence of what it has destroyed…

The strength,
Of a thousand blades,
In my hands,
And its power to release this pounding deep inside my soul-
It reverberates through my entire being,
It deafens me,
And brings me to my knees

This is a war,
Iv waged against myself,
Against my body,
My heart
My mind
My soul has put up its defenses
It crouches behind walls,
Seeking a shelter it knows it will never find…
Its armor is flimsy and weak,
As it prepares for the onslaught…
How do you defend?
Protect,
And plead,
Against yourself…

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