Sitting in the middle of her bedroom floor,
Lights dimmed and door locked,
Staring at the shiny boxcutter in front of her,
Tears flowing out freely in streams,
Holding the plastic handle with a hard grip,
She lifts the weapon to her outstretched forearm,
Tears suddenly cease from her eyes,
An empty expression across her face,
Pain is pleasure, she says,
As she etches a long line from her wrist to the middle of her forearm,
She winces at the initial sting,
Pain is pleasure, she says,
As she begins to draw another,
Identical to the first but deeper,
She hears voices coming from outside her room,
And is able to make out her name being called,
Getting up, she cleans up the mixture of blood, sweat and tears,
And calmly rolls down her sleeves to hide her fresh tattoos,
She unlocks her door,
Pain is pleasure, she whispers,
As she silently leaves her shiny boxcutter all alone in the dark room.
©Raven🖤
#sad
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