Posted in anxiety, death, depression, help, mental health, mental-health, misc, poem, poetry, Uncategorized

The blade and me (poem 7)

TRIGGER WARNING… talking about blades…

 

The blade and me

 

The blade is in my bag, not moving

Not breathing, silently shouting to

Have a touch, have a taste of

Freedom and release.

 

The blade is in my bag, fingers

Caress the edges, unknowingly present

When getting some indistinct item

From where is resides.

 

The blade is in my bag, cruel reflection

Taunts me, a sweaty girl innocently

Reaching in, persuaded to just

Cut all the fat off.

 

The blade is in my bag. There for

“Just in case,” Just in case

Mental health backfires, untamed

Laughter. It remains. Chained.

 

The blade is in my bag. The blade

Stays there laughing. But it remains.

It stays. It remains. It belongs.

It laughs.

Author:

Georgia is my pseudoname. Michaelson because THE ORIGINALS. I blog about random life events, mostly centred around mental health.

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