The Knife Kills

Sharp blades kill pain.

It’s not ideal, but it’s true. Cutting kills the emotional pain as the physical pain floods you. And with that said, I bring you a poem I wrote a couple years ago, “Killing Pain”:

I eye the knife warily

curious to what it’d be like to feel blade against skin

The emotional pain begging to be ended

I lower the blade

it touches skin

Dragging it across smooth flesh

the ache in my heart fades as physical pain blurs the lines

I know it’s wrong but I can’t stop

It’s an addiction

I crave the feel of the blade

there’s a darkness inside

twisting, pulling, dying to become unleashed

The battle rages, victory disappears a little more

every time the blade cuts my flesh

It almost doesn’t matter that I’m on the losing end

the blade feels so good

I bury the pain in my heart

with the blood on my arm

it’s pain I can handle

Staring at the cuts on my arm

I feel strangely satisfied

a small smile tugs at my lips

I feel sick inside wondering who I’ve become

this isn’t me

I ignore the voices in my head-

I must kill the pain no matter what

I don’t know what else to do

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