crimson

the water had turned a deep rusty color

and her cuts throbbed as she stepped out of the bath onto the cold tile floor

she examined what she had done

regret filled her heart

but she knew she couldn’t stop

as the night ticked on, she found more reasons to hate herself, more reasons to drive a blade into her skin and leave herself bleeding on the floor.

crimson rain fell to the ground and splattered with incredible elegance. she watched as the skin parted and silver flesh turned to a beautiful wine color.

the surrounding skin turned pink and became irritated.

she felt the wounds with her finger tips. surveying the depth of the cut and the width of the marks she had just left on her skin. she enjoyed looking at how far the deep cuts split her forearms open.

she dare not show or tell anyone about these nights. but they would find out, as she would soon be in the hospital, with many people wondering why..

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split skin

(tw)

i miss the feeling

of driving a blade

into my skin

and tearing the layers apart.

i miss the feeling

of the sting

once the cuts have been made.

i miss the feeling

of blood

dripping down my arm

into a crimson pool

beside my bed.

there was so much

satisfaction

that came with

hurting myself.

i still feel as if

i deserve it.

i do these things

to myself

so i can feel

something.

anything.