self-harmageddon

more of a vent/rant than anything

i carve my skin of my thighs with knives

and scrape the dips of my hips

with spoons

i watch the blood disappear

and in its place

flowers bloom

gardens on my legs

and bouquets on my sides

they flourish where i felt

parts of me die

____

i was once told

you can’t have a fear of rejection

if you were never rejected

then what am i,

if not afraid?

-stop invalidating my emotions

____

yours aren’t as deep as mine

she shrugged

that means it’s not as bad

is my pain only measured 

by how much i bleed?