The mirrors Edge

I take the blade from my smashed mirror
This lethal blade i use to lacerate my arms as a sick release
I enjoy to cut too mutilate my pallid emaciated arms to feel something anything
As the blade pierces the skin the blood flows the pain is powerful almost erotic

I feel alive i am elevated for a moment to a ecstatic pure state of being
Its a masochistic ritualistic act i perform at least once a month
When I’m down in a deep depressed funk
When I’m credulously contemplating killing myself a night of inebriated self harm alleviates this dark suicidal ruminations

I take the blade as my hand trembles with excitement
It cuts the underside of my arm i slash in horizontal lines piercing the skin
I am diligent and careful to not hit a vein or a artery hence why i cut on the underside far away from my wrists

There’s a profusion of blood that emanates form my arm
I take my crimson towel to prevent any blood from falling on my carpet
I am taken to a pure place cutting myself is a therapeutic act to purge all the demons all the poison that’s trapped in my damaged psyche
The pain the next day is excruciating its a brutal reminder of my pain a visible articulation of my unexpressed screams of emotional torment in the form of scaring lacerations on my scrawny underarm

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