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Rated: · Other · Emotional · #1810498
This poem is about my self-destructive issues.
I am a junkie for pain and blood.
I feed the need, inside my heart, the craving to slice and tear; and rip apart.
There is violence and darkness in my soul, amongst depths never to be known.
The pounding in my head will not cease, fore my skin itches to breathe, to feel the blade and bleed.
The sickly sweet sensation, takes a hold of me, and I succumb to the temptation to feel numb.
This beautiful numbness that I feel, is bliss but will not last. So I am left scarred and broken, with a hole in my heart.

I am tragically imperfect, and fatally yours. I am blood-stained and smiling maniacally while I slice myself to pieces. Pain is love and fear is power.
Sickly sweet pain, courses through my veins, and I am satified while I watch the blood drip from my veins, into a pool of blood on the floor.
Now the deed is done, I am now at peace one again, until the dark temptation fills my heart again, and I smile with violent glee, i'm satisfied as I give into the blade again.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1810498-Slave-to-the-blade