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by Ilana
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #1752999
This is a poem written for my freshman writing class.

Pointless, self-comforting pain

An escape from an unending reality

A way to feel what’s real without death

A slice, a simple cut

It fixes everything

And then the wound heals

It heals

Causing the damage to be pointless, except for that first moment of pain

No one knows the cause of everything

Other than an escape from your current reality

It’s a little wound, a small cut

And it keeps you quiet, helps to keep out death

You crave death

Death will eventually be what heals

But now all you have is the cut

And all it gives you is momentary pain

A brief flash of reality

A way to keep out everything

It all pushes in on you, pressure from everything

Anything can be proven horrible, anything except the unknown, except death

Cut by a broken reality

A wound always heals

A temporary escape can be found through the pain

Loss of control over your own life and therefore a cut

It centers around the cut

The cut is everything

There is no real pain

No pain except in death

It all heals

The pain is the only reality

Blood drips and pools, shaping your reality

It is all caused by the slash, the cut

Damage caused by life never fully heals

The damage forms and kills everything

And yet you shy from the unknown, from death

It’s all based on the pain

Harsh reality is known to cut

People fear pain and therefore fear you and everything that is a part of you

You fear death and so you sit quietly, alone, as you hope to heal

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