Chained and ShamedNobody gets it.I don’t want saving,I don’t want ”friends”;I just want all endsTo be met in red.I hate how plain my skin is,How it should be painted;Scarlett.I’m the addiction’s harlot,I do as it must dictateAnd when it tells me to seal my bloody fate;I bloody well will.I’m too full of blood,I need to let some out.But know this isn’t a shoutFor help;This is me copingWith how I’m hopingNobody’ll care when I go.Cutting isn’t for attention;It’s for a brief suspensionOf everything else.It is mine and I’m its,It doing as I wantAnd I its slaveUntil there’s nothing left to save.I don’t fear deathHalf as much as I do breath.Because I’d be lyingIf I said dyingWasn’t on my list of things to do today.
Sanctuary"Everyone has a different cup of tea. No matter what subject, people have different preferences," she thought quietly, her eyes shifting to fellow passengers on the crowded bus.But one thing was certain, no one liked this. The bustling people, all crashing into one another without so much as a look in the other's direction. The hurried atmosphere of the stressed population, all trying to get to work or an appointment on time. And most of all, the noise. The clangs, crashes, booms, and bangs of various activities, the yelling, and the stray cry from a child who was voicing their opinion on the deafening sounds.The girl's eyes landed on the small child who was now tugging on his mother's coat, tears in his eyes and one hand over his ear, almost pleading with his parent to make the noise stop."I hear ya on this one, kid," the girl again thought to herself, sighing and fishing around in her bag. She bit her lip, her eyes glued to the ceiling until she finally found the item of choice an