Chopping Onions
I like to hurt myself like this sometimes.
Nails For Breakfast, Tacks For Snacks
Nails for breakfast,
Tacks for snacks,
Knives and scissors,
Behind my back,
Make the mundane
A sharpened charade,
Metaphorical pain,
Self-harm of my self-worth,
I'm all give and I've
Pretty much...
Paper cut Hearts
I can feel the paper cut slice,
Dig deep into my heart. The pain is sharp, sorrowful,
And this is just the start. It leaves a long, deep cut,
Which nothing can heal.
Candle
My candle burns a lovely light,
Very clear in my sight,
Inhaling the fresh candle air,
Not having a care.
Strings
She picks her way through Stairway
Hoping something is achieved,
That something shifts inside her,
Something is relieved.