[Trigger Warning] The following reading contains potentially distressing information about self-harm. The reader is advised to use their discretion to continue reading.


Darkness cocooned her room,

her heart twisted, churned,

her fingers closed around her throat,

nails digging into her delicate skin hard enough to bleed,

fervently trying to break free of her corporeal tether.

Shadows keep haunting her,

memory after memory flashed in her head like a kaleidoscope,

each one a glass shard splintering her heart.

“Please just kill me, it hurts too much”,

she beseeched and begged,

each plea more gruelling than the former,

her screams just a whisper against the long endless night,

her mind nothing but a harbour of chaos,

soul nothing but festered wounds that were left unchecked for too long.

“Pathetic. Despicable. Worthless”

The voices didn’t leave, they cut her deep,

gripped her heart with a vehement vice-like grip

clawing their way into her, breaking her, suffocating her,

rendering her into an empty void dearth of light or colour.

She screamed out loud as the voices were piercing into her.

her cries were raw and broken, 

alone, unheard and imbued with pure desperation and helplessness.


She was choking on the walls of her misery.

She wanted peace, she was so tired

of living, existing, and fighting for herself and against her demons.

She was after all a lifeless, broken mess,

a shell of someone who was once full of life, exuberance and energy,

with eyes that always twinkled with mischief and light,

but now glinted with tears.

She chuckled mirthlessly, reminiscing did her no good,

and so, she brushed off the tears streaming down her face.

She trembled as she looked at the blade enclosed in her palm

and held it with a reverence fit for deities,

her breathing was rapid, exhaling with brief, concise spurts as she

closed her eyes shut and slashed her skin,

the cut instantly welling up with blood,

she made no move to stop the flow,

she just stared at her wounds; open and gaping just like her filthy ruined heart.

And she cut herself, over and over again,

she never once flinched nor did she whimper,

not one glimmer of hope or life in her once buoyant eyes,

she slashed herself, incessantly,

it was like a rhythm her mind sang to,

offering her some semblance of solace after what felt like an eternity.

She kept at it, until the raging sea in her head, in her heart stopped.

This time, she didn’t think about the voices or her pain.

All she could think,

was how beautiful the blood looked against her skin,

like glistening red rubies,

and wondered if she would ever learn to live again

as she stared into the depthless obsidian darkness.


Share this on: