He Called Me Neurotic

Tw: self harm

Broken mosaic

Broken like a mosaic, this grief is beautiful.

Cold as a grave, this silence is peaceful.

A pain drenched tartarus was what made childhood.

A longing filled asphodel is what makes life cruel.

Sinister evil spirits, they whisper in the dark.

Cold harsh voice, it will shatter up your heart.

The silence kept saying with such delicacy.

But mind kept begging for sincere secrecy.

So close your little eyes, home is full of ghosts.

Hide your own self, it is terrifying to be known.

Shred your skin, once again you'll be filled with relief.

One last cut; an eternity of sleep.

Pic via pinterest

Is it normal to grieve yourself?

And still yearn the grief?

To know you'll be eternally hurting,

Why is it such a relief?

What can life offer anyway

That I can't have with you in death?

What feels more like home anyway

Than it does besides your grave?

Image via pinterest

Spring is awaking from its slumber 🤍💐🌾

Tw: self harm, ed

Alternate universe

In an alternate universe,

I am 14 and alone in my room,

And my hands haven't harmed myself yet.

In an alternate universe,

My mom isn't emotionally dead,

And my dad isn't the monster yet.

In an alternate universe,

I still have her by my side,

I haven't screwed everything yet.

In an alternate universe,

I don't flinch when I look in the mirror,

There are no scars on my thighs yet.

In an alternate universe,

I still eat like a normal person,

I haven't ruined myself yet.

Tw: eating disorders and self harm

The monsters in my head. They won't leave.

An empty stomach. A grave where I live.

Scars on my thighs. A strange relief.

A disconsolate existence. A sigh of grief

My shattered childhood. It haunts me still

Whimpers of pain. A broken will.

Venomous family. Full of greed.

Begged you to stop it. It never did.

Tw: self harm

Autumn still

The spring air is filled with laughter and serenity.

Not something to be tainted with my goddamn tragedy.

But I am alone and my wrist is bleeding.

Despair surrounds me like death to the grieving.

I don't know peace; I perhaps never will.

For my disconsolate existence it is autumn still.

Pic via pinterest

The worst thing you ever did was to make me believe I could be loved

If to love is to rest then I will perceive death for you.

For what greater form of rest do we know than to lie in the cold, dark earth forever?

Your eyes that once looked like home

Now look like weapons that killed me.

Your face that once spelled out love

Now spells out grief to me.

.

You once were my cure from humanity,

Now I guess I was never meant to heal.

What once brought out the best in me,

Now brings out the poet in me.

.

Your soul that once meant beauty,

Now means emptiness and vain.

Our love that once made us soulmates,

Now makes us strangers again.

.

Your fictive touch, my anxious rush,

Now I know how grief feels.

Your gentle words and brittle oaths,

Now finally I let you ruin me.